The Journey Home
by Free Thought
Summary: A series of short works providing backstories to characters from "The Sword and his Flowers." Total of four multi-part tales. Featuring Redwall characters- both original and canon. Contains spoilers for The Warriors' Trilogy series.
1. Ratherwood's Tale- Part 1

**Disclaimer: Any references I make to Redwall and/or the Redwall series, I claim no ownership. Those all belong to Brian Jacques. There should not be many as these stories are mainly original, but I add the disclaimer all the same.**

**Author's Note: Due to reading a marvellous piece of FF written in first person narrative, I've decided to try my hand at it. Please let me know what you think.**

**Note on ****_The Journey Home_****: This is a collection of short works providing some back stories to some of the characters in my writings because sometimes their tales don't make it into epics, but it doesn't mean they are not important enough to tell.**

**Warning: Contains spoilers to stories of ****_The Warriors' Trilogy._**

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**Ratherwood's Tale: Part One**

_"We are all allowed to hide something of ourselves in this world; as long as we don't forget that which is hidden."  
_- Prince Martin Etifedd, _The Red Prince_ -

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I will never forget the day my Da didn't come home from battle. I remember sitting with Lis on the walls of the Mariner's Manor waiting for him to walk up the hill. I still remember Lis making fun of me for my ink stained paws that I tried to wipe off on my tunic. I remember his mother, the Lady Helene, yelling at us to get off the wall and stop acting like common brats. I remember laughing and looking down at my Mum as she stood in the gate opening, the flour still on her paws and apron from her baking, staring anxiously down the street that led to the manor.

"Do you think they won, Rath?" Lis winked and gave me a little shove with his shoulder. "I bet if they did, your Pop'd be made a Captain."

I just grinned. I knew my Da was a brave fighter. I heard the stories. I saw the respect that he was given whenever we walked through the streets together. Even my Mum wasn't hassled in the market whenever she went to get supplies for the manor's kitchens out of respect for my Da. I also knew that if he was made a Captain, then he would get more coin. If he got an increased pension, then he could ask the Alderbeasts of Carminack for a cottage- his wage would be large enough for them to garnish and we could move out of the Mariner's Manor and have our own home. That was Mum's dream. And as my Da promised her daily, he would try and make her dreams come true.

It's not that I didn't like growing up in the manor. Who wouldn't? I lived with the most powerful family in Carminack. They controlled all the ships and so indirectly, all the trade. Living here, I had plenty. Though I was just a common lad, I was treated like one of the noble young. Lis and I grew up practically as brothers. We did everything together. We got knocks from his older brothers and even teased by his sisters. We were the youngest in the household, but while Lis was the last of his parents' large brood and regularly forgotten about, I was the first from my parents and cherished. But it was that difference that brought us close. He had everything, but nothing, while I had nothing and everything. In that we made our own bond.

It never occurred to me that my Da could die. I knew battles were bloody and creatures didn't come back sometimes, but it never registered that it could happen to him. I guess it just proves how young I still was.

"I can't wait for him to come home," I said giving Lis a broad grin. "I can't wait for him to show me more writing."

"You and that ink," Lis joked and rolled his eyes.

"He promised when he got home he would teach me Wardswich," I replied quickly and consciously rubbed the ink staining my fingers. "Once I know how to read and write Wardswich, I can apply to join the scribes."

"And become a tradebeast," Lis scoffed.

"It's a better life than a fighter," I sighed. "Da was going to be a scribe, but he fought too well and the Generals pushed him into the Army. Your grandsire couldn't even stop them."

"Doesn't mean you have to be a scribe," Lis countered.

"No, but Da wishes for it, so I must do what he says," I shrugged. I would always do whatever my Da said.

But our conversation was never to finish. Not then anyway. The Army horns blew; their odd eerie wail echoing off the cottages and outbuildings. I saw my Mum tense and take a step forward in anticipation of seeing him- of running to him as she always did. Above us, the Lady Helene even came out onto her balcony, waiting for Lis' eldest brother, Laec, to come home from his service as part of the family's connection with the Army. An old tradition, but a tradition none the less.

We waited quietly on the wall top, dangling our footpaws and taking in the sounds of the other common folk below- crying, smiling, sobbing, laughing, rejoicing, mourning. And we waited.

I heard Lady Helene laugh above us. Turning my sight from the street to look up, I saw her smiling and waving happily. She must have seen Laec from her higher perch. If she saw Laec, then he was close. If Laec was almost home, then that meant so was my father.

I looked down at my Mum to give her a shout, but she was gone. She was no longer in the opening of the gates waiting for him. I smiled to think she must have seen my Da and ran out to him. A smile that quickly fell from my face when my mouth went dry and Lis put a tight paw on my shoulder.

My Mum had run out alright. She made it halfway down the street before her footpaws collapsed on her and she knelt down visibly crying and shoulders shaking from grief. Looking further up the street I saw Laec, only Laec, walking up the hill.

"Da?" I breathed and looked at Lis. "Lis, do you see my Da?"

"Rath…"

Jumping to my footpaws, I trotted down the wall top to the old knotted tree we used as our ladder, climbing down it swiftly and sprinting out of the gates towards my Mum.

"Ratherwood!" Lord Lisandro, Lis' father called from the manor steps. I ignored him and just ran forward. By the time my little legs had taken me to her, Laec was kneeling before her whispering things in her ear with a strong paw on her shoulder. Something was wrong. Laec was never empathetic. It made my heart race faster.

"Mum!" I called as I got near her. "Mum, Mum, you have to get up. Da won't want to see you cry…"

"Quiet, Ratherwood!" Laec snapped at me as Mum cried harder and he helped her to her footpaws. "Get inside the manor you inky mark."

I ignored the insult. I was used to them from Laec. He didn't usually call me names in front of my Mum though.

"I'm waiting for Da!" I snapped back at him, folding my paws over my chest and glaring my gray eyes, my father's gray eyes, at him crossly.

"Then you'll be waiting for a long time, Inkpaw," Laec said plainly. Looking over his shoulder as he led my Mum back to the manor he added without a hint of sympathy, "Your Pop's dead."

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	2. Ratherwood's Tale- Part 2: The Trial

**Ratherwood's Tale- PART TWO**

_"__To truly know who you are, you need to truly know where you've been. Sometimes that creature is hidden from you, but you will find it. You will find it when you look into the eyes of some other beast and the image that reflects back at you smiles and says, 'Ah, there you are, my old friend.'"  
_-Ratherwood, _The Lilymaid_-

"Next!"

That little word that we all take for granted. That one little, almost insignificant word, that to so many means absolutely nothing but a bridge in conversation from boring to interesting. But it means more than that. Sure on its own it's not that daunting, but pair it with some other word and there you have a signal, terrifying phrase that even the bravest of beasts wouldn't challenge. _Next season, next day, next step, next battle, next opponent, next wound, next breath…_ you get the idea. It is a humbling word, because no beast truly knows what _is _next. And now, for me on this day of days, 'next' was about to change my life as I knew it.

You see, it was a recruitment trial; a conscript evaluation of sorts. The Generals of the Southern Armies had a ring set up in Carminack's city square where they could observe the fighting skills of the new males joining the ranks before they signed the roster. Now don't get me wrong, if you were a bad fighter, that didn't mean that you got thrown out of the Army; no, it just meant that you were made note of and when you reported to your Captain at the field, they would know where to put your legion formation. Generally, we newbies got thrown in the back for our first charge, but if you really impressed the generals, they could make it so you were at the front.

Every male in Carminack of age had to report to the trial, tradebeast or not. If you were in a trade, you had to bring your master tradebeast with you to vouch for your credentials. If you weren't being trained in a trade, well, bring your courage and a weapon if you had one- you were in for a fight. Now weapons in Southsward were expensive so usually they were passed down through a family. Since they weren't able to find… well, let's just say I didn't have any, so I went to the trial bare pawed. But I wasn't scared of fighting without a weapon; not after growing up with Lis' five older brothers taking shots at me whenever they could. No, Lis and I had learnt to fight well enough on our own without a blade in paw, not to mention being taught a thing or two of paw to paw combat by ol' Bushy Whiskers himself.

So as the intimidating "Next" was called out by General Orleon, a rough looking badger with one eye and a missing ear, I took a deep breath and stepped forward into the ring. I felt a tinge of panic at the hundreds of eyes that seemed to fall on me. All around me I could hear snickers from the crowd about my lack of weapon, my humble dress despite coming from the manor, my shoulders not even filled out yet, and right down to my fur being too dark for my gray eyes. Everything about me was being evaluated and it took all my courage to keep my eyes looking straight ahead at the generals and not let them dart amongst the crowd for a familiar face; any face that would give me the bravery to keep going and swallow the large lump that was growing in my throat. All I wanted to hear was his voice. My Da's voice, just for five words, "You can do it, Ratherwood." That's all I wanted to hear. That's all I needed to hear. But no matter how I strained my ears, I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear him.

In front of me on the stocks platform sat three of the five army generals. Orleon took up the middle seat, sitting smugly in his rough brown tunic. Beside him was General Marc Stalwallows, a large otter dressed in long blue jerkin with a wide belt fitted high on his waist, and then hedgehog General Kentin, looking as joyful as a bee in a hailstorm. All of them were clad in dark green cloaks signifying their position as generals. They were burly and battle scarred, intimidating to any beast who looked at them; and all three pairs of hard eyes looked at me.

"Name!" General Orleon barked from his chair and pointed a paw at me. "Hurry up, mouse, spit it out. We haven't got all day!"

"Ratherwood, sir," I gasp out and take a couple deep breaths as if it was an exertion to say my own name. "Ratherwood, son of Rayley, sir."

Most of the legionnaires were quiet at the mention of Da's name and stared at me harder. Even the General Marc shifted in his chair. Getting up, the otter moved to stand at the railing.

"You're Rayley's lad?" he asked me pointedly.

"Yes," I reply. Like I would ever hide who my father was. I knew General Marc knew Da despite him not being in the otter legion and by the look on his face, he recognized him in me. It helped me take a few extra breaths. My Da had always spoken highly of General Marc to Lord Lisandro.

"He teach you anything? He teach you how to wield a weapon?"

"Er, no," I answer meekly. The closest thing to handling a weapon Da actually showed me was how to use a dagger to sharpen my quill.

"And you're here to join the Army?" General Marc pressed as if knowing my father had never intended me to go this route in my life. "You didn't bring a master tradebeast with you?"

"No," I shrug. "I don't know a trade." I didn't lie. What I had learnt of my writing was rudimentary and Da had chosen to teach me markings not used in Southsward first. I could read and write in common language, but I didn't know how to write Wardswich- the language the scribes preferred to use so not every beast got read their writings. Oh, I could speak the language fluid enough- you had to in the Mariner's Manor. The Lady Helene would only speak in Wardswich as a nod to their status in Carminack. It was either learn what she was asking you to do and reply respectfully in her own tongue or get cuffed across the head. Literally. And she was well practiced on where it hurt the most- she did have six lads of her own besides me running around, not to mention three smart-mouthed daughters.

"And Lord Lisandro knows you are here?" Marc asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning further on the railing. "He knows you're at the trial."

"I'm of age," I counter, not liking that I'm being treated like a young one who needed to ask permission. But no, Lord Lisandro had no idea where I was. "I'm not from the mariner's family. I'm not exempt from fighting."

"No, you're not, but…"

"Marc, stop delaying this- the sun isn't going to fall back east," Orleon grumbled and waved a heavy set hedgehog with a club in each paw into the ring. "Try him out Calv and let's see what he's got."

Now, I should probably let you know a few things before we continue. Going back at that day when Laec shattered my world with his three uncaring words, it took Mum two solid days of crying before she stopped. It took me two solid days to come to terms with the reality that Da wasn't coming home ever again. It took the Army two days to bring all the dead home and then it took them two more days to realize Da wasn't among them.

Mum was beside herself. Even Lord Lisandro went to try and identify him amongst the maimed after General Marc came to the manor to give the news himself of my father's missing body. You see, my Da and Lord Lisandro grew up together after Lisandro's father, Lord Lysander, found him on the docks abandoned by the ship he had sailed in on. Lisandro and Da were like brothers. Well sort of. From what I can gather, it was kind of like Lis and me. My Da was given a place in the Lord's household, doing chores and such, but seeing as Lisandro and my Da were the same age, it was only natural the two became friends. After all, Da was a learned mouse of some sort of high standing family from somewhere. That much was clear about him from his dress and mannerisms. He apparently sat by the docks each day for a season waiting for the ship to come back and claim him, to take him home. But it never redocked and eventually he came to terms with his lot and settled into life in Carminack. Lord Lysander told him he could be a scribe because he could read and write all sorts of languages; something he had been slowly teaching me in between chores and Army marches.

But regardless of his language talents, my Da made the mistake one day of showing off with a rapier. One of the Generals saw him doing tricks and well, forced him into the Southern Armies. Lord Lysander tried to stop it, but the Generals were firm. They needed as many skilled fighters as they could get and it was obvious Da had been trained with a blade. After the Battle of Clapsbay, many of the legionnaires were lost. Good fighting beasts with battle experience. The main threat now was gone, but there were still pockets of vermin throughout Southsward. They still had to fight to protect us and to do that, they needed brave creatures. Brave creatures like my Da.

It was hard when they hadn't been able to find him. Lisandro pressed Laec for information, but Laec didn't have any. The only thing he could say was what he knew. The mouse and squirrel legions advanced the vermin. They were winning, until the squirrel captain, Fintan of Constillion, fell and then the battle turned. General Marc sounded the retreat to regroup and the last any beast ever saw of my Da was him limping away from the battlefield, trying gamely to keep up with the retreat. Trying gamely to keep up… on one footpaw. I don't remember much after that. Lis told me later that I fainted, but it didn't matter. The idea of Da maimed was enough to make me retch. The idea that he hadn't gotten back to the Army lines safely made my head swim. The idea that he had been taken by vermin and possibly tortured made my world go black. Even now, to this day, the thought of it still gives me black spots in my vision.

You see, I loved my Da. He was the greatest creature in the world to me. He was always there to help me or teach me things. He would even play silly games that would make even Mum laugh! At night time, he would always be there to tuck me in and tell me stories of far off places with legends and white shores, tall mountains and large palaces, royal beasts and ships with golden sails. I loved Da; I loved the family he made us. We had a great little family. A family I heard Da tell Mum before he left that he wanted to make bigger. Maybe that's why Mum took the loss so hard at first. They had so many plans and all of them depended on his survival; a survival that didn't happen.

And to add to that loss we couldn't even honour him properly. I remember Mum waking me up in the middle of the night after we came to grips with the fact he wasn't coming home and silently we made our way through the streets to the shipyard. Going to the end of the wharf, Mum handed me a piece of parchment she must have lifted from the Lady Helene's writing desk and a small stick of charcoal. She got me to write Da's name and the letters E-U-T-R-U-S-I-A before taking the paper from me and folding it into the shape of a ship.

_"__With this your Da can have his dream come true," Mum whispered to me and gave me the little paper boat. "Put it in the sea, Ratherwood, and let your Da go home."_

_ "__Huh?" I say and turn up my nose. _

_ "__Your Da was not from Carminack, Ratherwood, as you well know," Mum sighed and tried to give me a weak smile. "He told me once that he was from a great island called… Eutrusia. He wanted nothing more than to go home again. To take us home. He was going to once he had enough coin saved up to pay for our passage west."_

_ "__But Da was going to get you a cottage," I put in._

_ "__Yes," Mum giggled. "But he never did say where, now did he? You know he joked with me once he would give me a palace. Looking back I wonder if he was really jesting or…"_

_I could feel the sadness welling up in her. I could feel the sadness welling up in me. Giving my Mum a brisk nod, I squeezed her paw to give her strength before slowly bending over the dock and placing the paper boat on the waves. Giving it a little shove, I stood up and watched it float out to sea._

_ "__Love you, Da," I said bravely and felt Mum's paws on my shoulders. Together stood on the dock in the moonlight until the paper boat disappeared beneath the dark waters, taking my Da back to the place he had once called home and giving our hearts a small bit of closure to know his dream had come true in a way. _

Mum and I were able to stay at the Mariner's Manor and though we didn't have any coin per se, Lord Lisandro made sure we were provided for. Mum kept working in the kitchens and for that, we were allowed our little apartment off the servants' wing and a share of food to eat. Whenever I grew, which Mum swore was daily at one point, Lord Lisandro ordered new clothes from the tailors for me. They were always simpler than the ones commissioned for his own children, but they were still well made. I remember the one day I came into his study to thank him for the new vest he had ordered me and when he greeted me he called me Rayley. He had stumbled over his own words and cleared his throat against his emotions, muttering a hashed up compliment about how I was growing up, but I knew what he meant. I was starting to look more like my Da. And I knew it too. I was proud of it.

I practiced my writing as long as I could. I practiced until my ink vial was empty. I remember taking the vial and asking Mum if she could get me more, but she just sighed and told me she couldn't. I remember overhearing Mum ask the Lady Helene if she could spare some for me, but she just turned her prim nose up and told Mum to stop being ridiculous. I wasn't going to be a scribe and to not let me waste my time. I was mad at first; who was she to tell my Mum what I was? But after a time, a very short time, I realized she was right. I wasn't going to be a scribe. Scribes couldn't change the outcomes of battles. They couldn't give orders. They couldn't save creatures. Only Captains and Generals could do that. It wasn't long after my ink ran out that I decided on my future. I would join the Southern Armies when I was old enough, just like Da, only unlike him, I _would_ become a Captain. That way I could make sure that no beast was left behind again. No other young one would have to experience what I did; waiting for a Da that didn't materialize, in life or death. No, I would make sure each of my legionnaires came back. Even if they were dead, their families would still be able to honour their bodies. This was my vow. My vow to myself.

So now here I am, ten seasons later, in the ring at the recruitment trial, a burly hedgehog coming forward at me with a club in each paw ready to smash my skull in and a sickening feeling in my stomach with a cold chill running down my back. But I had to get through this. This was my next step towards my goal. I had to impress the generals. I had to get on that front line. The sooner I got on the front line, the sooner I might be named a captain. For my Da I had to fight bravely, if only I could hear those words…

"You can do it, Ratherwood!" a loud voice yelled from the sidelines.

I look to my left and saw Lis had shoved his way to the front of the crowd, his arms crossed over his broad chest and giving me a confident smile.

"Ya, kick the hog's arse so we can get some ale, already!" Loulen, Lis' third oldest brother called as he came up beside my friend. "Come on Ratherwood- Bally-well, get him in the snout!"

"Let's go, Rath!" Lars, the second oldest chanted from behind them, followed by Leland and Latimar, Lis' older twin brothers. Even Laec appeared, elbowing his way beside Lis and laughing at the generals.

"A 'hog?" he scoffed. "You're going to have to throw more than a spike-back at Ratherwood if you want to test him! Come on, Inkpaw! Give him a what-for!"

It felt good to see them there, cheering me on. Slowly, I was able to swallow the lump in my throat, before turning my attention back to my opponent just in time to duck a club swing. I dodged to the side as the other club fell, dropping to my paws and spinning to kick out the hedgehog's footpaws. Down he fell, but on hitting the ground he rolled towards me, his spikes erect. I scramble backwards away from the Calv, but he wheeled on me, trying to pin me.

When I felt his paws pushing my shoulders down, I kicked up as hard as I could and rolled back, pushing the hog up over my head and behind me. I almost laughed at how easy it was, but before I could even let a smirk cross my lips, I felt my tunic tighten where Calv had grabbed and he pulled me into a rolled with him.

"Whoa!" I yelp flying through the air and landing with a hard thud on the ground at a pair of large gray footpaws.

"Jolly 'hogs, all fight the same," the bubbly voice of Sargent Tacticus Bushfeathers laughed from above me. Looking up I saw the familiar face of the hare, the senior officer of the Mariner Lord's own private guard, grinning down through an abundance of long, thick whiskers. "Right Ratherwood- dodge and strike, I say. Light o' paw and fast o' fist, wot!"

_Ol' Bushy Whiskers_, I sighed in my mind. Had the whole manor turned up to watch my trial?

Jumping to my footpaws I turned sharply, ducking under Calv's club and coming up quick to land a hard punch on the hedgehog's nose. Calv stumbled back away from me, shaking his head and clearing stars from his vision, before resuming his attack. We fought for what seemed like forever in the same motion; swing, dodge, punch. Swing, dodge, punch. I was tiring, but so was Calv.

Throwing a glance at generals, I could see them conversing, pointing and nodding. It looked like they were going to call the fight when General Kentin motioned behind him. I let my shoulders fall in realized exhaustion, taking deep breaths and gulping my swallows as I watched two more creatures enter the ring. A mouse and a squirrel each armed with a short sword and a paw axe.

_You've got to be kidding me,_ I think and take another deep breath. Wasn't fighting off one opponent enough? Now I had to fight three- and these with actual blades!

"Boo!" I heard half the crowd yell, while the other half cheered as if it were a tournament.

"Jolly well bending the rules, ol' stripe-face!" Ol' Bushy Whiskers called angrily across to Orleon. I look back at the hare, seeing him crossing his paws aggressively on chest. Behind him, the Lis' five brothers narrowed their eyes- yelling curses and cowardice at the act. This wasn't a fight to the death after all- it was _supposed_ to be just a trial. The only creature that seemed to be staring at me was Lis. I could see his angry expression and his paws clenched at his side. We knew this wasn't right, but what could we do? Such was the life in Carminack.

Bravely I shrugged my shoulders at him and turned my attention back to my opponents. Calv had backed out of the ring so at least now I only had two to deal with. Dangerously they circled me, taking a quick step forward and dodging back, trying to get me to guess their movements, but I stood my ground, only my eyes following their movements. I must have looked calm and confident to any onlooker, but inside I knew the truth: I was just that too tired to move!

The squirrel lunged first. I jumped aside nimbly, elbowing him in the jaw at his body followed his missed thrust and ducked and rolled away from the axe swing of the mouse. Scrambling to my paws, my heart pounded in my chest at the idea I had almost been hacked, while I readied myself for their next move. I watched them nod to each other and instantly charge at me. My eyes went wide, not knowing how to counter an attack from two charging beast, and desperately I tried to spin away from the weapons, but a sword pommel knocked me squarely in the back of the head. I remember feeling like I was going to retch at the blinding pain in my skull and the panic gripping my heart that I was going to die. That they would finish me off- trial or not. But panic and pain aside, I was still my father's son. If it was my time, if the Dark Forest was calling me to the Gates, then I would go, and go bravely. Rolling over onto my back, I eyed the legionnaires boldly, accepting my fate as the mouse raised his sword in the air.

I remember thinking to myself, _it's going to hurt- just don't yell_, and I bite down hard on my tongue to hold in my urge to call out. Just as I turned my head to close my eyes, a paw landed a hard punch on the mouse's nose, driving him backwards. I heard a cheer come up from the crowd and Lis ducking under the squirrel's axe swing, bulling him over and pouncing on his chest, punching at his face after knocking his weapons from his paws. Seeing the mouse wheel on around at the entrance of a new attacker, I pushed myself up to my paws and barrelled into him before he could get to Lis. Grunting and growling the two of us fought our opponents until we were all bloodied and each held a weapon in our paws.

"Enough!" General Marc roared from the platform. "Enough. It's done- drop the weapons."

I gave Lis a quick glance and we nodded to each other before dropping our weapons and taking a step back from the legionnaires. The opposing mouse and squirrel nodded to us and backed away as well, but they did not drop their weapons as they turned and walked back into the ranks.

I heard the crowds cheering around us and the hoots from Lis' brothers and guards. Looking at my friend we both smiled proudly at each other. We made it through a trial of trials. And we had won. Looking up at the platform I saw even General Marc smiling and giving a slow clap, tipping a nod in our direction.

"We did it Lis!" I cried and put a strong paw on his shoulder. "We did it! But why did you jump in?"

"I wasn't about to let you get chopped!" Lis smiled and returned my gesture. "'Sides, I wasn't going to let you have all the fun."

I laughed. Lis did like to fight. But our laughter and rejoicing was short lived when we next looked at the platform and saw Orleon standing, arguing with Lord Lisandro. When had he shown up?

"You two- come here!" Orleon snarled and waved us over with a paw. When I reached the base I stood as still as my heaving chest catching my breath would let me and jumped when slightly when Lisandro pointed at me yelling.

"He's a scribe!" the Mariner Lord shouted angrily. "I just paid for his entrance into the commission."

"He said he had no trade!" Orleon snarled. "He brought no master tradebeast with him."

"He's going to learn the trade…"

"Not after the way he fought today," Orleon said dangerously. "He's for the army. They are both for the army."

"Both!" Lord Lisandro gapped and gave Lis and I a hard glance. "Liswano is my son- he is except from the army…"

"Unless he enters on his own accord," Kentin smirked. "He entered the ring on his own. No beast so much as gave him a nudge."

I looked at Lis and saw the smile on his face. He knew. He knew the whole time what he was doing. Looking at me, he gave me a wink and said in Wardswich, "Falonoi." _Friendship._

"How much?" I heard Lisandro reply coldly. "How much for their freedom?"

"No!" I yell and go forward. "Lord Lisandro, please I…"

"Quiet, Ratherwood- I'm doing this for your father…"

"And so am I!" I cry and kick the platform step before bounding up it and muscling myself ahead of the lord. "Where is the roster, General? I'm ready to sign."

"Better get two quills!" Lis laughed and came up beside me.

"Liswano!"

"Pop- don't pretend you didn't know this was coming," I heard Lis say behind me. "What was I going to do with the rest of my life, huh? It's not like I can sail on a ship- a small wake makes me retch…"

I blocked out their arguing behind me and felt the weight of that simple word fall heavy on my shoulders as the scribe opened the roster charter and motioned for me where to sign. My next movement would seal my fate. Before I dipped the quill in ink I looked up and saw General Marc standing before me, his paws folded over his broad chest.

"Name on the left, sire's name on the right," he said with a small smile and gave me the barest of nods. I returned the gesture and focused on the parchment before me.

I don't know why I wrote what I did. I don't know why I thought it was important, but it was to me. Even though I wrote my name with rudimentary letters, I did it proudly. I mean, at least I could write. Not like the series of hash marks and x's that littered the page from beasts before me. When I got to the column set aside for my sire's name I paused. Like I said, I don't know why I wrote what I did, but I felt the need to do it. With a smirk I wrote the words. When I was done I smiled pompously at the scribes and handed Lis the quill. I watched as he signed his name quickly and tossed the scribe the feather. Looking down, we both grinned happily. Liswano of Carminack, son of the Mariner Lord Lisandro, and Ratherwood, son of Rayley of Eutrusia. Our next step had begun.

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**So for those who have read ****_The Sword and His Flowers _****may recall Lis getting a little queezy at Florgin stumbling about like they were on a ship- now you know why ;) Just a little tie in there. **

**Some may also recognize the name of a certain creature from ****_Elderstar._**** Like I said before in the intro- these tales contain spoilers!**

**Also, we start to see our friend Ratherwood starting to take in shape in his philosopher-type role.**

_**IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW**__**IT!**_


	3. Ratherwood's Tale- Part 3: The Army

**Special thanks to Lady Storm, Saraa Luna and Jade Tealeaf for the reviews so far! **

**Onwards and upwards we go!**

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**Ratherwood's Tale: PART THREE- The Southern Armies**

_"__For if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this, but that you first make thieves and then punish them."_

_-Sir Thomas More, Utopia, Book 1-_

"Name?"

"Ratherwood. From Carminack."

"And you?"

"Liswano- Carminack as well."

The hedgehog just stared at us over his dusty spectacles and raised an eyebrow at our lofty apparel compared to the others lined up behind us to sign into the field. Both of us had on new cloaks and large haversacks slung over our shoulders containing the armour Lord Lisandro had bought us. Well, Lis had armour. Lord Lisandro had been gracious enough to buy me a coat of chainmail and pair of gauntlets. Strapped to our backs were our weapons; Lis had a pair of twin short swords, the weapon of his family, while I had bought a new battle axe with the few conscript coins I was given for my entrance into the ranks. The battle axe was General Marc's suggestion. After watching me fight, he could tell I preferred to use my brain in combat rather than muscle through with force. He told me a battle axe would be a good weapon for me; it was a calculated weapon not to be swung around willy-nilly, but to wait and then make one, deadly strike.

"You'll have to take off those cloaks, lads," the hedgehog said returning to his ledger and flipping to Carminack's pages to sign us in. "Only generals and captains wear cloaks here. Use them at night to sleep with, but don't wear them."

I nodded and unclipped the silver clasp, letting the heavy fabric fall from my shoulders and I pulled it over my arm to carry it.

"You will both need to report to your captain," the hedgehog continued. "You newbies need to learn formations and calls before the battle.

"Captain Elgan is… there," the hedgehog continued and pointed to a heavy set mouse wearing a dark blue cloak talking to another small group of mice. "Talk to him, then find a place for the night. Food cart comes for supper and breakfast. You'll get your rations then."

"Right," Lis smirked and winked at me while he patted his haversack. My Ma had packed us some food after Laec had told us how retched the food was here. Not that it was any of the cooks fault mind you; they had a whole army to feed and could only cook with what they were brought by the legionnaires. The food was sorted and the best of it shipped off to the markets to sell so they could pay us. We got the leftover half rotting food to eat that was watered down or salted to cover up the horrible taste. Or so Laec had told us.

Hiding my smile I strode forward to our captain, ready to meet him, but stopped and jumped back into Lis when Captain Elgan turned and I saw the other side of his face, or what was left of it. His left ear was missing, a black patch covering where had once been an eye and horrifying thick silver scars heavily lining his head and neck. His left cheekbone was flattened from a break that never healed and the left side of his mouth drooped a little from loss of facial muscle. I couldn't tell if he was scarred anywhere else. I couldn't stop looking at his face. Suddenly a vision of my Da bloodied and weary popped into my mind as he leaned on his battle axe like a crutch, grimacing reach time he put down the stump of his leg where his footpaw had been, trying desperately to keep up with the call of retreat. Watching despairingly as the army ran faster and further away from him…

"You staring at something, newbie?" Captain Elgan sneered and walked towards us. "Do you see something… wrong?"

"N-no, Captain," I replied quickly.

"Just your ruddy face," I heard Lis mutter behind me. His reaction must have been the same as mine.

"Heard that," Elgan jeered and pointed a paw at Lis. "You're a bold one. Not many would have stones to say that. Your friend didn't."

"He's polite," Lis shrugged. "I just don't care."

At the declaration, Elgan laughed. At least he laughed normally. I have expected him to come out with some sort of haggard cackle.

"Good answer…?"

"Liswano."

"Ah, the mariner's brattling," Elgan smirked. "'eard about you. And you," he said turning his attention and his half-dead face to me. "You're Rayley's lad- Ratherwood, isn't it? Generals told me about you two. Made quite the impression at the trial I understand."

"We managed to save our fur if that's what you mean," I replied defensively finally realizing he had me pegged for a soft-paw and now had insulted Lis.

"That you did," Elgan chuckled. "But can you save your own fur in battle, I wonder?"

Waving us to follow him, Elgan walked through the army camp explaining the various places, tents and pavilions. He explained the legion divisions and pointed out the captains and the generals as we went. Rules were simple: Do as you were told. Generals decided the battle plans, relayed them to the captains and the captains led the legionnaires in the charge. Generals watched the battle, deciding where to push forward or pull back. Drums meant keep going, horns meant pull back. Kill or be killed. Try to run away or they would send trackers out to drag your tail back- which you would loose on top of being whipped. Glancing nervously around, I did spot the odd creature missing a tail. Elgan wasn't joking. It did happen.

As we passed the food tent, a pair of mouselets scurried out from under the canvas, laughing and playing a game of tag. The youngest bumped into Elgan's legs and the captain shook his fist at him as he laughed and spun away.

"Flintin!"

"'Orry Cap'n Ellan!" the young one giggled and sped off to chase the other one again.

"Watch where you two are going!" Elgan snarled at them. "The legionnaires are here and you shouldn't be playing around!"

But his shouting was all for not as the mouselets had disappeared amongst the crowds.

"Infuriating mice, those two," Elgan grumbled and then got a smug grin on his face. "I think I'll go have a word with their mother…

"Gowren!" Captain Elgan barked at a passing mouse. "Take these two newbies back to the fires and see they're set up. I have to go talk to Liana."

"Right, Captain!" the mouse smiled brightly and gave him a wink. "May have to wait…"

"I don't wait," Elgan hissed at him as he strode by. "She knows that."

I remember thinking to myself that Captain Elgan must have been the father of the two mouselets. It did make sense, at the time. Although I thought was odd for his wife and children to accompany him on a march, I didn't overly question it. For all I knew all captains and generals brought their families with them. Ha, was I wrong.

"So, ya two a pair of newbies, huh?" Gowren smiled and gave us a wink. "Where ya from?"

"Carminack," I said boldly.

"Ah, city-beasts! Deep Southers! Well, ya come with me and we'll get ya beside a fire to warm yar pampered paws…"

"And who says they're pampered?" Lis interrupted him. Gowren just turned looked us up and down and scoffed.

"Oh, nothing," he laughed and waved us forward.

We stopped at a fire by the tree line that overlooked the lines of legionnaires signing in to the camp. Every so often a pair of large otters would walk by as if on a patrol. Not for us, oh no. Their eyes were glued to the forest, searching the shadows for movement. It was a comforting and apprehensive feeling all at the same time. I mean, the idea that we could be attacked was unnerving, but to know they were ready for it… I guess I mean that _we_ were ready for it, was comforting in its own right.

"So, newbies," Gowren chuckled, trying to make conversation. "Ya got names?"

"Liswano, Ratherwood," Lis replied gesturing to himself and then me. "And you're… Gorwen?"

"Gowren," the mouse corrected.

"Funny, you don't look much like a fighter," I said quickly. There wasn't a mark on him.

"I not!" Gowren laughed. "Field surgeon. I 'he beast who cuts off yar limbs if 'hey're smashed and 'he healers can't save it. I like to say, I see ya around, ba not many beasts want to frequent my tent."

"C-cut of limbs?" Lis stammered and for the first time in his life went white as his shirt. "You mean they just don't let you heal?"

"Healing takes time," Gowren waved at him. "Broken bones take forever to heal and are painful if bumped. If we cut off yar limb, in a day or two in a tight bandage and out ya can go again into the charge."

"With a missing… limb?"

"Aye! If it an arm ya still have another to hold a blade- 'hey usually trade yar weapon in for a dirk, nice and light ya see- easy for a beast to wield with one paw. And if ya loose a footpaw, I get ya fitted with a wood stump."

Gowren was laughing and pointing at me when I realized the reaction I held on my face: Wide eyed and lips curling in disgust. Lis got up and ran to the forest to retch in the trees. For all his I don't cares and bravery, the idea of being maimed didn't sit well with him. I was about to ask Gowren something so important I couldn't remember what it was when I heard the bubbling noise of young laughter.

The two mouselets we saw earlier can giggling out from behind a tent and pounced on each other to wrestle about on the grasses. I smiled to think if Da had lived, I might have had a younger brother, too.

"What are those two lads doing here?" Lis mumbled behind me once he was finished vomiting. "I thought Captain Elgan was going to talk to their mother."

"Er, well, I guess 'hey would talk a bit," Gowren snickered. "Liana prefers to just get the job done though."

"The… job?" I asked; my idea of a perfect world full of love and family shattering at the realization of how the two young ones were truly there.

"'Heir mom's a rutter," Gowren replied watching the two mouselets wrestle. "Works in the kitchen tent. She's gotta work so 'hey gotta stay here."

"The army is no place for a lad to grow up," I muttered and continued to watch them play. So that's where Captain Elgan was going. To get his jollies off.

"No, ba 'hey have no other family, hence why the dear ol' mom o' 'heirs is here. She have to eat somehow!"

Now, don't get me wrong here. I wasn't a prude or an ignorant. I knew what went on between beasts- the birds and the bees as they call it. It wasn't as if I hadn't experienced what a male and maid could do for each other behind closed… okay, sometimes open doors and the occasional alleyway… Ah, now don't look at me like that- I was young and as I said before- foolish. I just didn't know how foolish yet. But where was I... ah yes, I knew my way around a maid's chamber as did Lis… as did all his brothers… as did practically every male in Carminack once they felt their blood rush at the sight of a rounded pair of hips on a maid. But I was respectful about my debaucheries; I didn't care to brag about them like Lars, nor take two at a time like Lis preferred to. No, I did mine quietly. Okay, I had to. I had no coin to pay a wench. Mine were usually married maids disgruntled with their lives and curious to have a younger, more energetic male between their sheets in comparison to their slack-jawed tradebeast husbands. But I was respectful with my silence and delicate with their reputations. I was after all… careful.

We watched as a mouse came forward out of the crowd of arriving beasts and called out to the young ones. I smiled as the eldest jumped off his younger brother and ran to the mouse now kneeling on the ground and flinging himself into waiting paws.

"Ah, good Florus made it!" Gowren laughed and raised a paw to his friend in greeting, but the mouse was too busy sitting on his bottom with the young one on his lap listening to him brattle along.

"His father?" Lis chuckled.

"Aye- Florus is Florgin's Da," Gowren nodded. "'here be some dancing tonight lads- Florus has been known to sing up a tune!"

"What about the other one?" I questioned looking at where the younger mouselet stood off on his own waiting silently for his brother. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were sad as he looked longingly at the laughing mouse receiving another hug from Florus. "Where's his father?"

"Ah, well, Larkin ain't as… attached to Flintin as Florus is to Florgin," Gowren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He here somewhere, but… well.

"The pair of 'hem have a kind mom at least," Gowren put in, changing the direction of the conversation. "Ya two remember be nice to Liana and she make sure ya get a full bowl at mealtimes!"

"And how do we do that?" Lis laughed as Florus sent Florgin on his way so he could sign in and the two brothers ran quickly around the grounds, making their way back to the kitchen tents.

"Treat her like she not something ya just bend over a table."

* * *

_Trum-tum-Trum-ta-da-Trum. Trum-tum-Trum-ta-da-Trum._

Was it the sound of our footpaws marching forward, the sound of the army drums or my own heart hammering against my bones, I wasn't sure. Maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe it was my chainmail clanking as I walked or maybe it was the blood thundering in my ears and making it feel like they were swelling to the size of shields. Regardless of what the sound was, there I was two days after our arrival at the army camp, marching in formation with the mouse legion towards a hollering horde of vermin in front of us. Looking over at Lis he had the same expression on his face that I did, the same thoughts running through our heads. _What in the name of the Seasons had we gotten ourselves into?_

After our recruitment trial I received basic weapon training from the army and Lis and I got thrown into the manor courtyard by Lord Lisandro and Ol' Bushy Whiskers himself put us through the ringer. Now I should probably explain that Ol' Bushy… I mean Sargent Tacticus Bushfeathers, was an extremely skilled fighter- some say was a descendant of the great fighting hares of Salamandastron. He would never deny this, though firmly stressed he had never been to the mountain in his life. But regardless of who he was or where he hadn't been, there was no beast in Carminack quicker on their paws or more skilled with a double edged javelin. For one solid week he worked Lis and I to the bone, going over battle tactics and weaponry.

_"__They'll jolly well give you a spear each for the charge," Sargent Bushfeathers explained. "And you know what they'll tell you- thrust in and kick it out, wot."_

_Pulling Lis to him, the hare demonstrated his meaning by putting his javelin under Lis' arm and then kicking his foot up onto his chest to push him off._

_ "__But don't cha know," he stressed. "Don't do it."_

_ "__Why?" I asked and cocked my head to the side. That is what they had told us to do in basic training after all._

_ "__Because I'd wager me whiskers that's how good ol' Rayley lost that footpaw they say he did," he said quietly. Doing his demonstration again he paused before he kicked Lis away and motioned for me to come from the side with my axe. _

_ "__Chop!" he said as the head swept by his leg. "That's how to loose a bloody good paw, don't cha know. Right then, you two aren't going to do that. You two are going to fight like hares, wot!"_

_ "__Like hares?" Lis laughed. _

_ "__Don't cha know?" I jested back._

_ "__This is not a joke, I say!" Bushy snapped and ordered us to attention. "Address your commanding officer with respect, sirs!"_

_ "__Yes, yes, ol' B…"_

_ "__Sargent Tacticus Bushfeathers to you, Legionnaire Liswano," Bushy said coldly. Then as quick as he turned serious, he said lightly. "Right, now standard spear thrust. Two paws on the handle, thrust in, but don't stop with the thrust. One motion, chaps. Push in, twist, pull down and out. Simple, wot?"_

"March forward, lads!" Captain Elgan yelled above the noise. "The squirrels will take the charge and we'll follow them into the horde. Watch the flanks- vermin like to curl!"

I don't know why, but I nodded in recognition. Not like the Captain could see me; oh, but wait he could. Lis and I were placed on the front line. General Orleon's orders. Stupid stripe-dog.

As Elgan strode past us adjusting the lines and moving creatures around I saw him glance over his shoulder at us. Now I should say, when you're a Captain, your legion is like your family. You are supposed to care for the creatures in it like a family and though Elgan was obviously not the most sympathetic mouse around, at that moment, he must have felt a fatherly obligation to us.

"Florus, Duncan!" Elgan called and waved them over from the right flank. "Stay with the two newbies in the charge."

Florus and Duncan. Lis and I met them a night back. Good mice. I liked them. Their fathers had both been fighters and Florus' had even served under the Commander at the Battle of Clapsbay. Though his father had been respectfully retired after that battle, I was surprised that Florus was not a captain seeing his lineage and his long service in the army. But then as I was learning this army sometimes didn't make much sense…

I smiled at them as they squished in beside us.

"Alright, lads?" Florus asked with a forced grin on his face.

"Fine," Lis and I replied in unison. We were anything but fine.

"Courage lads and stand true," Duncan winked at us. "We'll be fine."

I took a deep breath and pushed it out of my lungs. How had my father done this so many times? How had he stood their staring down death when he should have been home beside the fire with Ma and me? But I guess that's why he had done it. So Ma and I could be beside that fire.

I heard the drums beat faster and looked up to the hill where the generals stood, watching, and waiting. I saw Orleon's large paw fall to his side, signalling a blue banner to be raised.

"Hoora!" I heard shouted in unison from the left flank and the squirrel legion stepped out to advance the horde.

_Trum-tum-ta-da-trum. Trum-tum-ta-da-trum._

"Spears at the ready!" Elgan yelled and held his own spear aloft. "Make ready to charge!"

Seeing Elgan glance up at the hill, I took one last deep breath before the captain spun on his heel and ran forward towards the bellowing vermin. Without hesitation, the mouse legion sprung forward to follow him, our spears held out in front.

You know they say that great warriors have a battle cry. A declaration of what they fought for screamed out over the fray and melee of battle, rallying creatures to the cause, keeping them inspired to move forward, courageous enough to go on.

I don't know what I yelled as I ran after my captain. I couldn't hear it. Not that it was too loud, though I'm sure it was- we were in a battle charge after all, but because everything around me went deathly quiet. Nothing, not even the drums, could be heard through my deaf ears. I know I was shouting. By the time I ran my first weasel throw, my throat hurt. I knew I was running, I could feel my muscles burning, but everything was so slow. Everything until I twisted my spear out of the vermin's body I had just killed. Once that spear head left his ribcage, all my senses came alive again.

Instantly I heard the screams and cries of battle; the mad laughter, the painful screams of creatures getting hurt, creatures dying. Around my own footpaws I stumbled on fallen squirrels and dead ferrets. And the speed- the speed at which the vermin charged at us completely blew my mind away.

Two more vermin I stabbed through with my spear before it snapped midway down the shaft and I was forced to draw my battle axe. Holding my paws wide so I could use the shaft as a block, I stood my ground and laid two more ferrets low.

"That's it Ratherwood!" Florus encouraged me from my left side, fighting with his own sword. "Now move forward- that's it, step by step forward. Lead the ranks forward!"

Gathering my courage I pushed my way further into the fray, always looking forward, never back. I could hear the captains calling us on, leading us forward. Step, swing, block, step, block, swing, overhead chop, I danced through the horde until I could see the back of their line. We were winning.

"We're doing it, Lis!" I shouted to my friend beside me.

"There's the back line!" Lis yelled. "Duncan, the end!"

"For Southsward!" I screamed and charged forward. I don't know why I did it and there is no other way to explain the feeling I had, but pride. Sure I was killing and maiming creatures left, right and center, but that little sight of victory made me want to lead them forward. Lead the legion forward.

"Onwards lads to victory!" Lis cried from beside me and the two of us pushed our way to the back of the horde. Shortly, we were joined by Captain Elgan and we watched as the squirrels chased off after the remainder of the vermin about the rocks.

"Victory!" Captain Elgan shouted and raised his paw axes over his head.

"Victory!" I chanted, taking up the cry. Looking beside me, Lis rocked back on his heels, exhausted and… wounded.

"Lis!" I cried and took a step to grab his elbow to support him. Looking down I saw a large gash on his thigh and a deep cut on his arm, just above his right gauntlet. "You're injured."

"So are you Rath," Lis breathed out and nodded towards my shoulder where my chainmail was chinked open and a long slice ran open and bloody. I blinked as I looked down at it. I had never seen my own blood before, apart from the odd nose bleed from one of Lis' brothers fisting me in the nose. This was a war wound… it was…

"Reform the line!" Elgan snapped loudly as screams came up from the rocks and slowly we could hear the sounds of footpaws, heavy footpaws, marching. It wasn't over yet.

Quickly, we fell into our formations as an army, twice the size of the one we just faced, stomped out from behind the rocks.

"It was a trap!" the squirrel captain yelled to Captain Elgan. "Elgan, we must pull back."

"Hold your ground!" our captain said and took a bold step forward. "They haven't sounded the retreat yet…"

Before us a large fox strode out ahead of his horde, sneering at us and chuckling.

"Mice!" he laughed. "'N squirrels. Yur generals lost thur brainzys if they think the like o' yurs is gonna stop us!"

Without any more warning than that, the horde sprang forward, pushing us backwards and fighting us away from the rocks.

I countered as many strikes as I could, but I was exhausted. Twice I felt myself get cut across my brace arm. Twice I howled in pain. Three times I coughed when I took a spear butt to the ribs and one time I fell down on my bottom.

"Oh, no you don't!" Florus yelled to me as he grabbed the back of my chainmail hood that had fallen from my head and hauled me upright. "No sitting on the job, Ratherwood!"

Grimly I nodded and took a stance once again to have ferret run at me, daggers drawn. Without hesitation I split his skull with a downward chop and looked longingly as more vermin advanced us. But then I heard it. A low eerie sound. The army horns. They were calling us back.

"Fall back to the camp!" I heard Elgan say. "Fall back!"

Quickly, I backed away from the vermin, watching to step over fallen bodies of creatures I had just met over the last two days which I was to never converse with again.

"Retreat to the generals!" I heard the squirrel captain yell. "They're coming lads, hold the line, just back away- the generals are coming with the otter legion!"

"Hold that line!" Elgan screamed at us. "Don't let the vermin through!"

And we didn't. My lungs were screaming for air and my body slow and unresponsive from exhaustion, my paws numb with a tingle of fear. But I held the line. I had to. Hold the line.

The drums picked up against and General Marc appeared through the center of our legions and faced the vermin boldly with his rapier and dirk drawn.

"Captains- legions to formations!" Marc hollered and signalled for the otter legion to take form with a clap of footpaws and arms, and a loud "Hoora."

In front of us the vermin shifted and looked uneasy, but still snickered and jeered. Again the fox came forward and challenged General Marc in words I couldn't make out, but could only imagine. All I know is I had just looked over at Lis to ask if he could hear when Marc sounded the charge and we all crashed forward again.

My arms were tired and my battle axe heavy as I swung it around me, in more of an attempt to keep away than kill. Slowly, I found my battle dance again and worked my axe in the motions; step, swing, block, step, block, swing, chop.

But our flanks weren't even. The squirrels too tired and the mice, well, whether or not we had more bodies or more skilled fighters it didn't matter, but we ended up starting to curl round the back of the horde. Something we shouldn't have done, but we had no captain to pull us back. If you hadn't noticed yet, you could no longer hear Captain Elgan directing us in combat. No, Elgan was silent now at the footpaws of a fox.

"Pull back to your ranks!" I could hear General Marc shouting to us. "Mouse legion to the line!"

Slowly we pulled back again, but not before Marc made a charge forward with the otter legion, pushing the enemy backwards, back towards the rocks. The vermin retreated. But we were still too deep.

Desperately, they grabbed at us. Pulling us towards the rocks and away from the army.

"They're trying to take beasts for battle plans!" Duncan screamed to us, a good amount of fear in his voice. "Fight away lads, fight away!"

I remember a weasel, or was it a ferret, grabbed my leg and tried to pull me backwards, but I made a large swing with me axe and carved off his arm.

Turning to sprint away with Lis, I saw Florus clubbed across the head and then jabbed in the gut by a stoat. Dropping his sword from the stun, Florus let out a startled yell when he was grabbed across the chest and hauled backwards to the vermin horde.

"Florus!" I cried as I watched him get pulled into the horde. Panic gripped me as I pictured a pair of young mice sitting on a wall top waiting for a Da to come home. Only this time I didn't picture Lis and I, but rather little Florgin and his brother Flintin.

"No!" I yelled and sprinted off into the mix, hacking, chopping- doing whatever it took to get to him.

"Ratherwood!" I heard Lis calling, but I was too deep now to go back. I had to go forward.

"Ratherwood, go back!" I could hear Florus yelling. "Get away from here!"

"Every beast comes back!" I said, more to myself than another other beast caring to listen. "Every beast comes back."

Holding my axe tightly with both paws together I made a great swing at the stoat's legs, cleaving them off and catching Florus as he fell forward from the screeching captor.

Turning to run back, we were faced with a wall of retreating vermin and then…

"Fall back to the otts!" I heard General Marc call to us not ten paces away. "Florus- Ratherwood! To us otts!"

Bravely, I charged at the wall of vermin, hacking a hole for Florus to follow me and together we ran and collapsed amongst the otter legion.

"I owe you my life, Ratherwood!" Florus gasped as we were shoved and pushed down the legion and back towards the camp. "Why did you do that, lad?"

"Your Florgin," I breathed out between gulps of air. "You had to come back for Florgin."

The mention of his son's name softened his eyes and he put a weary paw on my shoulder. Behind us the victory cheer came up from the otters and we watched as the vermin tuck tail and ran like the cowards they were.

Turning back to me, Florus gave me a weak smile and said.

"Your father would have been proud of you, lad."

I never forgot those words, just as I never forgot the feeling when it registered with me that I was still alive, that I had fought my first battle, first of many battles, and lived to tell the tale. I never forgot the smiles and laughter Lis and I shared afterwards, or the celebrating in the camp, the sorry excuses for healers that stitched us up and burned our wounds closed. I also never forgot that our revelry was short lived and could never forget what happened afterwards, even if I tried.

I won't go into what happened. I still don't like to talk about it in detail, in a basic form, two days after our victory, the vermin made a final stand; the big fox led their raid and we weren't ready. Sure, we won and pushed them back for good eventually, but not after the deed had been done. Not after the line broke and we lost three captains, two generals and… countless legionnaires slaughtered in two out of the three infirmary tents, not to mention various scribes, cooks, and following maids. It was a battle of unlikely heroes and humbling opposites.

General Marc may have been the beast to slay the fox and put his head on a pike, but it was one small mouselet who won us the battle. His courage was greater than any of ours that day and chants celebrating his victory were inside substituted by muffled sobs as he bravely took the lash whips across his bare back. That day our greatest fighter, our own badger General Orleon was more of a vermin than the beast with his head on a pike. But that day, my friends, is not my tale to tell.

* * *

**So we get a glimpse of a few things there... **

**IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW IT!**


	4. Ratherwood's Tale-Part 4: My Maiden Fair

**Special thanks to Jade Tealeaf and Lady Storm for their reviews of the last chapter.**

**This one slows us down a bit after all the action of the last one... **

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**Ratherwood's Tale: Part Four- My Maiden Fair**

_"__Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"  
-Christopher Marlow-_

It's an oddity the way memories are stored in us. I mean, with a happy memory a beast can remember the joy they felt, the creatures they were with- all superficial, obvious things that could really be tied to any memory and not necessarily one specific event. But sorrow? Well, now that is a different part of you that remembers that. It isn't your mind or your heart, oh no. Sorrow you remember in your soul and locked there forever it will stay.

And you remember everything. You remember the hurt, the pain, and the tears. You remember what you were wearing and who you were with. You remember the time of day and the sounds around you; the position of the furniture about a room, the smells of the food and the feel of the ground beneath your paws. And more importantly, you remember the rise before the tragedy; yes, your soul will always spitefully remember how blissfully happy you were before your world seemingly ended. That is what hurts the worst; knowing how happiness was right there in your paws- you could see it, feel it, smell it- and then the next moment it is gone.

And it keeps hurting. You may not need to talk about it, but you know it's always there. The soul constantly reminds you of it in its own little ways; like being tied to a post and having an annoying little creature poke at you with a stick every time they pass by. How does the soul remind you, you ask? Well, that's easy. It's the part of you that aches in the night when you can't sleep and you toss and turn under your blanket. It's the little twang in your voice when you try to explain to a beast what happened and worst of all, possibly what causes you the most pain; it's the claws that twist your stomach into a tight knot when you watch the same sort of thing that happened to you, happen to a great friend and there is nothing you can do to stop it. But he has his own story about that.

Like I said, you remember everything and it's true. I remember everything about when I too met my own maiden fair.

* * *

"Just put the wood in the grate and help me with these herrings," Mum ordered me as I came in the servants' door to the kitchens with an armful of firewood. I had to laugh at the irony. I mean here I was, a legionnaire returning victoriously from my first battle and not five moments had I been home, Mum ushers me into the kitchens like any other day and orders me about like a drill beast. Some things never change.

"Yes, Mum," I laughed and discarded the wood in the holder, brushing off the shavings from my shirt before moving to the large table where they prepared food. There were two other kitchen maids besides Mum, but they were there merely to do the things she didn't have extra paws for; like stirring a pot or checking on the bread rising in the oven. Picking up a sharp knife and taking a freshly caught fish from the bowl, I licked my lips at the sight of the vegetable bed she was making for them in the large roaster. Carrots, anise, leeks and celery lined the bottom of the iron pot, seasoned and pats of butter added for flavour. After almost two weeks of army slop, I couldn't wait to taste real food again. Mum's real food. This meal would be for the mariner's family, but Mum always made a little extra so that I had some for my meal as well.

I was just about to start scaling the herring when a flash of red appeared in the doorway and scurried into the wine cellar before I had time to blink. I thought I was crazy seeing that flash of brazen fur. For all I knew, only squirrels had that colour of coat and the Lady Helene would never, _never_ allow a squirrel in the Mariner's Manor, servant or not.

"Hestia, I din't suppose ya know widch wine tha ladyship fancies, da ya?" the heavily accented voice chimed out from the cellar. "All she wid tell me wa she wan'd 'er fav'ite bottle."

"It's the bottles on the right, Clara," Mum replied with a smile. "The green ones."

"Ba Hestia, t'ey all be green!"

"On the right, Clara," Mum chuckled and sighed at my puzzled expression. "The Lady Helene brought another serving maid in while you and Lis were away, Ratherwood."

"Seasons forbid she have to blink on her own," I said mockingly, gaining giggles from the two kitchen helpers and a disapproving glare from my mother. With a smirk I went about scaling the fish and tried to keep my mouth shut against the hundreds of other digs I could say about her ladyship when Lis bounded down the stairs.

"Fancy the returning heroes of battle get to prattle around the kitchen," Lis jested as he slumped down on the bench beside me and winked at Mum. "Doesn't like the sight of me with bandages on so she sent me out. Can I help at all?"

"No, Lis," Mum said quickly. "I'm still scrapping the burn off the pot from the last time you helped me!"

"Here, clean a fish," I smirked and tossed him a herring. "Knives are in the drawer."

"Oh and where's the new Clara-lass?" Lis asked as he retrieved a blade from the sideboard. "Mom and Pop are waiting for their wine."

"She's in the cellar," Mum sighed and stopped what she was doing to go to the cellar door, wiping her paws on her apron as she walked. "Clara! Hurry-up dear- the Lady Helene doesn't like to be kept waiting…"

"Meet the lass, yet?" Lis whispered to me as he took up his place again beside me.

"Not yet, why?"

"Oh, no reason," Lis smirked and laughed when Mum remerged with Clara and my eyes grew to the size of shields. Lis gave me a light jab in the ribs and added under his breath, "No reason, but I know how you like a bit of colour!"

I was absolutely speechless. I forced myself to blink and forgot about breathing. I just watched young mousemaid conversed with Mum, nodding and taking orders as she was shown how to hold the tray properly so as not to upset the bottle. Her fur was redder than I had ever seen on a creature; still to this day I have never seen a match for it. Her eyes were a dark green and they shone and twinkled when she smiled. I remember she had slim hands with long delicate fingers and her plain brown gown hung lightly on her small frame. It wasn't until she turned her glance to me, that I remembered to breathe. She gave me a small smile and I quickly sprang to my footpaws, upsetting the bench and sending Lis toppling backwards.

"Fate's fire, Rath!" Lis roared with laughter when he looked up from the floor. "What are you rising to your paws for? She's just a serving maid- she's not my mom or sisters!"

"Sorry, Lis," I mumbled, embarrassed at my clumsiness. Reaching down, I pulled him up to his footpaws and chuckled as he gave me a playful shove. When I turned around she was standing with Mum beside me. All I could smell was freshly baked bread. It made me feel at home.

"Ratherwood, I'd like you to meet Clara," Mum started the introduction for us. "Her father's a new baker in Carminack and she is here to serve the Lady Helene while they get settled. Clara, this is my son, Ratherwood. And Liswano I believe you already have met."

"G'day me-laird," she smiled and dipped a quick curtsy to Lis. To me, she just smiled. "Pleasure t'meet ya, Ratherwood."

"The pleasure is mine," I replied softly. Seasons how I loved that smile.

"Well, I best be gettin' this wine ta tha ladyship," Clara said brightly and stepped around the table towards the stairs. I watched her go, a light smile on my face. I liked her accent, as humble as it was. It was as different as her fur colouring, as warm as her smile. I liked the way her mass of red curling headfur bounced on her back as she walked away. I remember feeling my breath catch in my throat when she stopped at the first stair and glanced over her shoulder, blushing to see me still staring at her before disappearing to the upper levels.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and saw Lis smirking at me knowingly.

"Thought you'd like that one," he chuckled quietly as we resumed our task of cleaning fish. "Never seen fur that colour on a mouse before- and on a lass no doubt!"

"I like it," I mused and gave him a shot in the ribs. "Not every maid has to be the pale, wide-eyed type you like."

"Ah, but they are the best," Lis smiled. Throwing a glance to the two kitchen maids at the end of the table who happened to meet that description, he raised an eyebrow and added, "Especially, when they come in pairs."

I remember laughing at his jest and not listening to him afterwards as I continued to scale the herring, all the while thinking about her, remembering her, locking her deep within me; deep within my soul.

* * *

I got to know Clara quickly over the next few days. Lis and I had to report to the barracks every three days for training with the army and Lisandro insisted we train daily with Sargent Bushfeathers, but all my other time I spent around the manor, trying to casually run into her as we both went about our chores. I made it a game with myself, loving her laugh when she would bump into me, again, for the fifth, sixth, sometimes, eighth time that day. When she was done her service for the day, I would walk her home to her family's cottage on the other side of the market. Hey, stop pointing fingers- Mum suggested it first. It was dark most times when she was leaving after all and as I mentioned before, Carminack was not a place for a young maid to be walking around alone at night, especially with the army housed in the barracks. And then it sort of, well, it became a habit. It was during those walks that I got to know her and she got to know me.

"So, ya a legionnaire," Clara asked innocently during our first walk to the baker's cottage. "Ya fight wid tha Southern Armies?"

"Yes," I smiled at her accent and her attempt at small talk.

"Me fadder has ta go wid me brother ta tha trial in a fortnight," Clara sighed. "Ta prove he becoming a baker like him."

"Lis and I have to go act as fightbeasts," I put in plainly. "General Marc's orders. What's your brother's name and I'll watch for him."

"Ferran," Clara said with a smile. "He won have ta da any fightin', will he?"

"Not if he's claiming a trade," I reassured her. "He just has to bring a master tradebeast to vouch for his apprenticeship. Don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Me modder's still scared. She says tha generals trick beasts inta tha ranks."

"I won't say it hasn't happened, but I'll watch for him. General Marc will be there and he seems to listen to what I have to say."

"A general listen ta a mouse!" Clara laughed. "Din ya hit ya head, Ratherwood!"

"I said he listened, not that he heeded," I chuckled at her tease. "Don't worry, Clara. A city can never have enough bakers. All beasts need bread to eat."

"An' ya?" Clara questioned as we stepped around a corner and trod passed a rowdy tavern. "Da ya 'ave any brothers or sistas?"

"No," I breathed. "It's just me."

"Oh," Clara said quietly. "Dinna ya parents no wan another?"

"My Da died when I was young and Mum never remarried."

"Oh," Clara nodded. "I sorry. I dinna know."

"It was a long time ago," I smiled. "It's fine."

We walked in silence for a few more streets and each time she heard a noise she moved closer to me until our arms were brushing. I didn't pull away and neither did she. It made my heart race all the way to the other side of the market where a two-storey cottage stood before us with candle light shining from the windows, waiting for her return.

"Well, this is 'ome," Clara said with a sigh like she didn't want the walk to end. I know I didn't want it to. There were so many more things I wanted to ask her, but I would have to be satisfied with what I had for the time being.

"This is home," I repeated and smelled the delicious scent of muffins, tarts and breads. "Is that cheese bread I smell?"

"Aged cheddar wid rosemary," Clara winked. "Fadder's specialty."

"It smells wonderful," I said and licked my lips, suddenly starving.

"Wid some warm bu'er an' milk, there be nothing bet'er," Clara smiled warmly. "Well, g'night, Ratherwood. Thankee for tha walk safely 'ome."

"It was my pleasure, Clara," I said and caught her paw as she turned to leave.

"Clara?" I whispered and stared at her when she turned back to me.

"Wha is it, Ratherwood?"

"Goodnight, Clara," I said with a smile and placed a light kiss on her fingers, before backing away from her slowly. "Pleasant dreams."

* * *

"Ah, another soft-paw!" General Marc growled to Orleon as Lis quickly disarmed a rot-tail squirrel in the ring at the recruitment trial. "What are they doing to these young lads? Letting their mothers nurse them 'til their ten?"

"Horrible trial," Orleon grumbled and chewed at an old scar on his paw. "More tradebeasts lined up than recruits."

"We need more fighters," said Arrlo, the new squirrel general, from his seat beside the badger. "Legions are only at half roster…"

I just watched and listened to the generals grumbling as I stood with the other fightbeats. It wasn't eavesdropping; not when we could all plainly see what they were saying. There was a low number of males turn out for the trial; a surprisingly low amount that caused Kentin to leave with a squadron of 'hogs to go search the city for any hiders. And it wasn't just the low numbers, but the fact there was only one legionnaire registered for every two tradebeasts that showed up. Numbers were down and as Arrlo said- legions at half roster. It didn't make for a very confident feeling about our next march which would be soon gathering from the reports of hostile pockets in the woods near Constillion.

"Well, that lad wasn't worth his nuts," Lis jested as he came back to the side of the platform, causing a rumble of laughter amongst the others. Accepting a canteen of water from me, he took a quick drink and recapped it. "Don't know why I'm drinking- lad didn't even cause me to break a sweat."

I just nodded my face serious. Hopefully, the runners were finding more beasts amongst the woodland villages. Perhaps, Constillion would have a strong turn-out; anything that would give us more numbers.

"Oho- will you look at that!" Lis laughed and pointed to the ring where a pair of mice walked into the middle to address the generals. "Their fur is redder than Arrlo's! They must be Clara's family."

I looked towards the ring and smiled. Those red-furred mice could only be part of her family; Clara's brother, Fennan, and her father, Callum. I knew I was right when the breeze picked up and tufts of flour blew off their jerkins.

"Name!" Orleon shouted from the platform.

"Fennan, sir," the young mouse stuttered. "I'm, er... well, I'm gonna be a baker."

"A baker, you say!" Orleon laughed and waved the words away with his large paw. "I'm surprised you can find enough flour to make a scone with all the others of your ilk around. Why not try out your luck in a different profession?"

"I-I, I dinna know wha ya mean, sir?" Fennan stammered and looked back at his father. "Me fadder, Callum is 'ere to vouch for me."

"Do you have cotton in your ears, lad?" Orleon snarled and stabbed a paw in the air towards him. "I just told you we have enough bakers in Carminack."

"What is he doing?" I whispered to Lis as I narrowed my eyes at Orleon.

"Getting numbers by the sounds of things," Lis said knowingly. "Looks like Clara's brother going to be signing the roster soon."

"But he's a tradebeast," I growled. "A vouched for one at that. They can't just change the rules to suit their needs!"

"Ha- Ratherwood, not every beast has the sense of right and wrong that you do… Rath!" Lis called to me as I slipped under the rope and strode into the ring towards the two mice. "Ratherwood, don't be a fool!"

"Wha ya doing in 'ere, lad?" Callum hissed at me when I was nearly upon them.

"Making sure they listen," I said quietly and stood beside Fennan, showing myself to be a good head taller and put my paws on my waist to show off my broad shoulders made strong from training. As if he knew what I was doing, Fennan cowered slightly behind me, showing himself to be shorter and much slighter in build. Smugly, I sneered at the generals, noticing they had all risen from their seats.

"Ratherwood?" General Marc called out from the platform. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you what you can't see," I shrugged and motioned to Fennan behind me. "You pick which of us looks like a fighter, me or him."

"What are you talking about, mouse!" Orleon snarled angrily. "Of course you look like a fighter. You've been trained. He's a newbie-"

"And not a spec of muscle on him," I said holding up Fennan's arm. "So let me ask you a different question; who's a more important fighter- me or him?"

"The mouse has lost his marbles," I heard Arrlo snicker at Marc. "Marc, he's flipped his ears."

Marc just stared at me and I glared back at the three of them, crossing my paws over my chest patiently waiting for their answer. Finally, it was Marc who broke the silence.

"And why would we have to choose?"

"Because numbers or not, an unfit battlebeast in a rank is more of a danger than being outnumbered by a horde," I said loudly so every beast could hear me, not just the generals. "Recruiting a mouse like this will only get himself killed along with his side beasts trying to defend him and themselves. Though I appreciate your efforts in trying to even our odds, generals, I would rather live with an extra scar or two from a hard battle than lose my head."

A cheer went up around the ring and the fightbeasts hammered their weapons in support. Lis was the only one not clapping- standing in the middle of the exit, his paws folded over his chest, shaking his head with a broad smile.

"Silence!" Orleon roared and slammed his fist on to the railing. "Bold statement, mouse, but seeing as you're not so much as a captain…"

"A tradebeast is a tradebeast, General Orleon," I said boldly. "If they are being trained you can't change them into legionnaires. It's against Army Creed. Against honour."

Another rumble of cheers went up around me, making me braver as I raised my chin in defiance.

"And when the line breaks and the vermin make it to the villages and cities to raid these _tradebeasts_ what will you think of honour then, mouse?"

"Ah, that's not going to happen," my voice dripping with flattering sarcasm. "Not when we have a great badger general in our army such as you."

Laughter mixed with applause this time and even Marc turned his head away from Orleon to hide his snicker. I saw Lis look over at him and shrug. It was usually him that came back with the smart mouthed comments, but I guess over the seasons a little of Lis had rubbed off on me.

"Enough!" Orleon yelled and pointed a paw at me. "Get out of the ring, mouse. This has nothing to do with you…"

"It has everything to do with me," I said strongly. "It's my head and I say leave it where it is. I don't want to die so you can say you had one more gitchy mouse sign his name on the roster. Let the fighters fight, the bakers bake and the Fates decide our fortunes!"

The city center exploded with cheers and the sound of metal clanging on metal in approval of my statement. I knew I had the crowd in my favour, and so did the generals. Anything they said now that wasn't going the way the mob wanted, would be a bad scene for them. Quickly they leaned in to each other, conversing and throwing glances at me every so often. Though I could hear Callum and Fennan whispering and shuffling on their footpaws behind me, I fought the urge to look back behind me. I had to keep looking ahead, as if it were indifferent to me who they were, and that my only concern was the army and keeping my head. Slowly, the generals turned towards me and Marc raised his paw in silence as Orleon left the platform towards the weapon tent set up behind the stocks.

"Alright, you've had your fun!" General Marc called out to the crowd. "And so have we. Didn't think we would actually take a bony whelp like that to the ranks, did ya? What do you take us for- maids going to a picnic?"

The mob laughed and Marc waved them off.

"Fennan, you must sign into the trades commission at the exit," Marc said loudly over the laughter and jeering. "Legionnaire Ratherwood- return to your post. NEXT!"

I gave General Marc a quick nod and strode back to the rope, ducking underneath it before being grabbed by the collar and dragged towards the tent by General Kentin who had just arrived in time to hear my little speech. Ripping my axe from my belt hook, he tossed it to one of the other fightbeasts and pulled me forward again.

"Hey! Where you taking him?" I heard Lis yell from behind a wall of hedgehogs. "Kentin!"

"That's _General_ Kentin to you, mariner brat!" Kentin growled and tossed me into the tent like I was little more than a mouselet. "Your friend here is going to have a little chat with General Orleon, that's all."

I landed with a thud at the giant footpaws of the badger. Quickly, I scrambled upright and eyed the Orleon warily as he walked along the rows of weapons they had brought for us to test the newbies with, picking up the odd one and inspecting it.

"You're a bold mouse, Ratherwood," Orleon said plainly with a smile curling on his lips dangerously. "And that was a bold speech- even if it was against me."

"It was bold because it was the truth, general," I replied sternly. I had been brazen this long; I might as well keep it up. "What you were going to do wasn't right."

"Right or not, Ratherwood, it was my decision. A general's decision. A senior general's decision. It outweighs any truth because whatever I say _is_ truth to this army."

"No," I replied. "It's only true to you. As you heard, what I said was true to every other beast."

"So you can control the emotions of a mob," Orleon snickered. "Trust and control are the mere actions of a captain."

"A C-captain?" I stuttered out and letting my heart race at the thought of my vow coming true.

"You have the makings of one," Orleon sneered as he held a thick oaken club in his paw, testing his balance. "But you're not there yet.

"Oh, no, Ratherwood, you're not to be a captain yet," Orleon snickered and turned to me with the club still in his paw. Suddenly, I felt a chill run down my spine and I took a step back at the hard look in his eyes. "First you need to learn you cannot challenge me."

Defensively, I reached for the handle of my axe that wasn't there when Orleon raised his club and slammed it down on the base of my neck. Pain thundered through my brain as I tried to twist aware from him, feeling the muscles in my neck rip as I turned and tripped with his next swing to the back of my knees. Falling onto the ground, I tried to scurry away from him, but he caught me squarely in the middle of my back, winding me and laying me out flat.

I tried to fight back, I tried to defend myself, but every move I made was countered by a club strike. Finally, after what seemed to be the twentieth blow to my body, I kicked out with both my footpaws and hit Orleon firmly on the side of his leg, buckling his knee sideways. A fluke hit, made by more luck than skill and Seasons did it make him angry. I heard him roar, more in insult that I had been able to kick him than actual pain and as I turned my head to glance at his next move, I saw the club fall towards my head before all around me went black.

* * *

"Ratherwood… Ratherwood…"

I felt like I was dreaming. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear Mum's voice as if calling me in from the courtyard for dinner.

"Ratherwood…"

"Liswano, you said Orleon did this to him?"

"Yes, Pop- beat the snot out of him with a club…"

"Ratherwood…"

"Pop, Leland went to find a healer… ugh- is he going to lose that eye?"

"Oh, looks nothing more than a good tilt in the boxing ring, I say. He'll be right as rain in spring once they get the swelling out of him, wot!"

"Ratherwood…"

"Mum…?" I whispered and tried to open my eyes to see all the creatures I heard talking, but my eyes wouldn't open. I mean they could, but they wouldn't. I could feel my eyelids moving, but the swelling around them held them closed. My nose felt like it was twice its normal size and my cheeks hurt when I talked. Running my tongue quickly over my teeth I breathed a sigh of relief that they were all still there.

"Ratherwood!" I heard Mum exclaim as I moved my head slightly and felt her paw on my cheek. "Shh, Ratherwood, easy now. Don't move too much until the healers get here."

"Jolly lucky he has no broken bones, wot!" I heard Sargent Bushfeathers put in somewhere around the area of my footpaws. "Looks to be only bruise, don'cha know."

"Water," I whispered as I licked my lips and grunted as a beast raised me up and put a cup to my lips.

"Drink slowly, Rath," Lis sighed as he held the beaker for me. "Slow, Rath."

"How are you feeling, son?" Mum asked innocently. Oh Mum. How did I feel? I was just beaten by a badger with a hunk of wood- how did she think I felt?

"Fine," I rasped out and leaned back down on the hard surface I was laying on. I must have been on a table somewhere, probably either the great hall or the kitchen. "Tired."

"Sleep then, Rath," Lis encouraged. "Just go to sleep."

"He goes to sleep with a hit on the head like that and he might not wake up," I heard Lord Lisandro say pointedly from the other side of the room. "Some beast stay with him and wake him up every now and then."

I could hear muffled noises, but couldn't make out any of the words as let my mind spiral downwards into the depths of sleep.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when I awoke in my own bed. Most of the swelling was gone from my face thanks to the healer's salves and I was tucked in with just a light sheet and a heavy quilt. Underneath I was completely naked, my clothes taken from me to wash and mend. Blood from my nose bleed had been wiped away from my face, but my whole body was covered with what felt like a hundred tender bruises. I could smell my sweat and the sour scent of the salves rubbed about my body to reduce pain at any of my bruise sites. Oddly enough, all I wanted was a bath; a hot steaming bath that I could soak all my hurts away in.

Luckily for me, I was more sore than actually hurt, so I was able to shuffle through the servants' quarters quietly enough to make it to the kitchen where the bathing tub was housed until one of the lord's family needed it. Pulling the heavy ash wood tub towards the hearth and setting a cauldron to boil on the still blazing fire, I adjusted the sheet I had tied around my waist and waited for the water to heat up. I was on my fourth cauldron when I heard the small voice whisper behind me.

"Ratherwood?" it said in a familiar accent. "Ratherwood, wha are ya doin' outta bed?"

"What are you doing at the manor in the middle of the night," I smiled and turned to see Clara standing a few steps away from me wringing her paws beneath her cloak, her dark green eyes glassed over with emotion. I expected her to jump away at the sight of me, but instead she stood her ground.

"Oh, Ratherwood," she sighed and let a paw go to her lips. "T'ey were right; ya were hurt."

"I'm fine…"

"No, no ya ain't," Clara said quickly, holding the sides of her cloak hood about her face in obvious stress. "Ratherwood, ya skin be purple 'neath all yar fur! Lookit yar eyes, yar nose… Ratherwood, why did ya da it?"

"They were going to force your brother into the ranks," I said plainly. "And I told you not to worry about it… I said I would watch out for him."

"Ba no be beaten ta a pulp!" Clara exclaimed, boldly walking to me and laying a paw on my cheek. It was so soft and gentle. Just her touch made everything seem less painful. She smiled at me like she understood my thoughts and motioned to the cauldron steaming on the fire hook.

"Wha are ya thinkin' ya doin?" she said shaking her head. "Ratherwood…"

"I just want a bath," I chuckled and adjusted the sheet around my waist suddenly conscious that I only had it tied loosely around me and was probably showing more of me than a maid needed to see. "I just want to let the hot water take some of the ache away."

"Well, this cauldron be boiled," Clara stated, taking off her cloak and letting her mass of curling headfur fall to her hip from her hood. The red of her curls mirrored the flames of the fire as she carefully poured the water into the tub.

"'Ere," she said softly and motioned for me to come closer. "It be full 'nough now for ya ta start warmin' up a bit."

"Clara, I…"

"I turn around," she muttered and grabbed another bucket from the corner to refill the cauldron. "Jus' tell me when yar in an' covered."

I wasn't going to argue with her. I wanted the heat from that water more than anyth… okay, not more than anything, but all the same, I wanted it. Quickly, I discarded my sheet on the table and jumped into the warm bath, groaning as instantly the bruises throbbed at the heat. Slowly, they relaxed and I was able sink down lower into the water and settle back against the headrest.

"Are ya covered, yet?" Clara giggled from the corner. "Can I turn around, now?"

"I, um… hold on," I stammered and painfully reached for the sheet again, tossing it over the sides of the tub and leaving me only exposed from the shoulders up. "Alright, Clara, you can turn around now."

"Is it warm 'nough?" she asked as she turned around with a smile and set the newly filled cauldron back on the fire hook. "Do ya feel a'right?"

"Warm and suddenly tired," I confessed, closing my eyes and letting the steam from the water waft my cheeks. "Clara, why are you here?"

"I 'ad ta see ya," she said with a sigh and held her paws open. "When me fadder and me brother came back ta tha baker's cottage an' told modder an' I wha happen'd, an' how a brave mouse stood up for 'em, I knew it 'ad ta be ya. Then we 'eard talk in tha market 'bout a mouse bein' roughed up for insolence ta a general. I conna sleep until I knew if it be ya or no, so I waited 'til every beast be a-sleeping afore I sneaked out to come ta ya. Ta make sure ya be okay."

"Clara, you didn't have to do that," I whispered to her, turning to glance at her illuminated figure by the fire. "But I'm glad you're here."

"Well, some beast has ta keep ya comp'ny, I suppose," Clara chuckled and knelt down beside me. Taking a corner of the sheet, she dipped it into the water and started wiping my face gently with the fabric.

Now, do you recall how I said you remember everything about the rise before the fall? Well, you do. I remember the hushed silence of the sleeping manor; the only sounds the crackling fire and the soft boil of the water in the cauldron. I remember the smell of freshly baked bread fluttering from her to my swollen nose. I remember the warmth in her eyes when touched her cheek and weaved my fingers through her curling headfur to pull her in to my kiss. I remember the taste of her lips on mine and the strain on my bruised muscles as I lifted her into the bathwater with me. I remember the feel of her gown strings in my paws as I undid them and the softness of her fur as I kissed my way around her body. I remember everything about that night and I never forgot my newfound appreciation for a tub of warm water. And despite myself, I never, never forgot my own maiden fair.

* * *

**For those of you who have read ****_The Sword and His Flowers_**** have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next... For those who haven't- you'll have to wait until next week to find out! OH AND REMEMBER...**

**_IF YOU READ IT PLEASE REVIEW IT. _**


	5. Ratherwood's Tale-Part5:Beginning Wisdom

**So I originally wanted Ratherwood's Tale to be only five parts... well you're now getting six. ;) **

**I'll try and get the sixth and final part of Ratherwood's Tale out as soon as possible as the last two parts are really supposed to be read together...**

**And special thanks to all the reviews and PMs! It's actually kinda fun working on this series of shorts as they pull from my favourite OCs and it is interesting going over my old character sketches for these creatures.**

* * *

**Ratherwood's Tale: PART FIVE- Beginning Wisdom **

_"The wise man does at once what the fool does finally."  
-Niccolo Machiavelli-_

I met with Clara secretly for almost a week. No room was safe from us if we found ourselves alone; no alleyway too dark, no closet too crammed. Many times I had to stop and remind myself to be careful; we weren't married after all or even betrothed. We had to be careful. Once or twice I forgot to... well watch my ending as it were, but Clara said it was fine. She knew of an old midwife that could give her some herbs to take. Besides, she assured me it took beasts seasons of trying to make a babe; there was no way our short liaison would be fruitful. Naively, I thought her right- like I said before, I wasn't an innocent and didn't have any grey-eyed bastards running around Carminack, so what was I to be worried about? Absolutely nothing. But we played it safe anyway and, foolish as I was, I gave her a few of the coins I had earned from my last march and sent her to get the herbs. Stupid. What a foolish, stupid mouse I was.

We hadn't talked about marriage, but I knew we both thought about it. I made some coin on my marches with the army, but it was sparse and would barely feed me on my own, let alone enough to have my wage garnished by Carminack's alderbeasts for a cottage rent and feed myself and wife and whatever else came along. No, I needed to be a Captain now for more reasons than one. I needed a greater wage to start a family; to start a family with Clara. And I truly believed she wanted that, too. Don't tell Lis, but I still believe she did, even after all these years. How, you ask? Well, it was simple. Oh sure, she told me she loved me (though mostly uttered in panted whispers between thrusts), and I proclaimed the same to her, but it was her smile when she saw me that told me she wanted us to be together. Whenever she saw me, her smile was so bright, so bold and so large from the moment it started, that it was a true smile, pure and full of love. That's how I knew and no beast can ever reason with me on that point. What happened afterwards changes nothing of how she felt back then.

So after almost a week of hidden debauchery, Lis and I received notice that the Army was to assemble immediately. There must have been an attack somewhere for we got the missive that morning and by mid-afternoon we were marching out of the city gates and west towards Constillion to the eerie wail of the army horns. I barely had time to say goodbye to Mum, let alone Clara, but I managed to find her and sneak in a quick kiss with a promise to return. As we marched through the market, I saw her father, Callum, talking to the river porter and shaking the paw of a mouse that looked to be his son who was obviously a tradebeast and about Lis and my age. I didn't think much about it then, chalking it up to trade-talk, but looking back on it, I should have spun around on my heel and decked the mouse in the teeth. But I didn't, instead I laughed at a comment from General Marc and didn't worry my left ear about it. Stupid, foolish mouse.

We convened with the main forces from Constillion about a six day march from the great treed city and set up what was to be our base camp for the next two seasons. That's right, you heard me correctly. Two. Whole. Seasons.

The generals all said this was to be our deciding battle; the one that would free Southsward from vermin forever. But despite our efforts and size of force we couldn't flush them out of the dense forests. Our formations, our legions, our battle tactics all meant nothing amongst the trees and thick undergrowth. We were frustrated and weary, useless against the vermin that cackled in the shadows of the trees at us. So for two seasons we fought, adapting to different forms of combat, trying anything that would give us an edge. That's were Lis and I found ourselves. The Two Season March proved well for both of us and played on our strengths.

You see, we needed brave creatures, strong and inspiring for others to watch to lead the legions in narrow columns through the trees; creatures not afraid to go first in a single column. Creatures like Lis. Quickly, he rose to his calling and led many a troupe into the woods on raids and combats, always returning victorious with a quick jest and a ready smile. And me? Well, before Lis could go in with his train of legionnaires, we needed to know which way to send them. We needed to know where the vermin where hiding and for that we needed beasts quick of mind, fleet of paw and cool of head. That's where I fit in. I was a legionnaire tracker- not to confused with a deserter tracker, oh no, our job was a little more complicated than that. I led creatures silently into the forest, following the barest of possible tracks made in some of the darkest places known to beast. When we found the vermin, it was up to me to assess numbers and their strengths. If I felt we had the upper paw, we attacked. If I thought we were outmatched, I sent a runner back to get Lis to lead a charge in. That's where little Florgin came in. He was our secret weapon in the dense brush of the south.

You see, he was still young, probably too young for what we used him for, but he and Flintin needed to eat and they had to help around the army if they wanted food, so we put them both to work. Flintin carried missives to various camps (what enemy creature would ever think a creature little older than a mouselet would carry an army missive anyways?) and Florgin joined me with the trackers. And he was brilliant. He was small, so when the brush got too thick I could send him crawling beneath the undergrowth to see what lay ahead. He was also fast. He was our best back runner- the beast that went to get the legions once we found a hovel. We had a system and it worked. Sure, maybe it was a bit careless, but we all lived right?

We were making headway and halfway through the second season of the march, we could smell victory. We could feel the weakening numbers of the vermin. We could smell their fear. I knew the generals were noticing my efforts, Lis' too, and they still hadn't replaced Elgan's captaincy yet. I knew they were thinking about the two of us as candidates. I could tell by the way a general, usually General Marc, listened to our strategies as we talked to those creatures following our leads and how one always greeted us upon our return and hear our report. It seemed like only a matter of time before one of us was wearing a dark blue cloak about camp.

So on one rainy afternoon, when I was summoned to the General's Pavilion and told General Marc wanted to see me- I thought for sure I would be leaving with smile and new title. Seasons, was I in for a surprise.

_"__You wanted to see me, General?" I said strongly once I was ushered in the large tent. General Marc sat quietly at the chart table reading a piece of parchment in his paw._

_ "__Aye, Ratherwood, I did," he sighed and rose to his footpaws. Slowly, he walked towards me and laid a paw on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ratherwood. Feel free to stay here as long as you like- no creature will bother you. You have two days leave from service."_

_And with that, he handed me the parchment and promptly left the tent. Just like that. I was completely thrown off by his demeanour and actions. And why was I being given leave from combat? No creature was ever given leave from combat, not even after they lost a limb, so why was I? Quickly, I flipped the parchment over, scanning the common script in haste. It was a missive from Lord Lisandro to General Marc informing him the on support from Carminack and giving directions as to where the supply ships would make berth on the coast. Hey, at least I knew there was new, hopefully fresh, food coming. I was sick of eating half-rotten cabbage. But that aside, it didn't seem like the type of thing for me to read or be concerned with- until I got to the bottom. A post script written quickly as if it had just happened:_

General Marc- please inform legionnaire Ratherwood I send him bad news. His mother has died from a fever. Please let him know she will have the according addresses and our hearts are with him.

_"__Ma?" I whispered and felt my mouth go dry. My Ma had… died? It hardly seemed real. Slumping down on to a nearby chair I stared at the ground in front of me trying to process my news. My Ma had died, and I… I wasn't even there for her. I wasn't there to help place cool cloths on her forehead as she had done so many times for me when I was ill. I wasn't there to worry and fuss over her- to feed her broth and pour her water. And worst of all, I wasn't there to hold her paw in the end, to hear her last words and tell her not to worry- she was going to see Da. _

_Lord Lisandro said she died of a fever. Surely, he would have ordered a healer for her and there was simply nothing they could do. But what if he hadn't? What if he didn't even know she was ill until it was too late? Guilt suddenly fell heavy on my shoulders as I started to think that if I had of been there, if I had been a scribe as my father wanted, as Lord Lisandro had paid for me to become instead of chasing after my own selfish desires, I would have been there for her and able to ensure she was seen by a healer. I might have been able to save her. But I wasn't and I didn't, and I would have to come to terms with the reality._

_After what seemed like a good half of a day, I left the General's Pavilion and made my way over to the small campsite Lis and I shared with a handful of other mice and sat quietly until the evening meal cart came. Lis stayed beside me through the night. Just sitting, staring silently into the fire. She was the only family I had left in the whole world and now it was just me._

I ignored General Marc's offer of leave and fell into battle formation the next day as we finally met the vermin on the field. A great battle they said it was, I don't remember. All I remember was still being alive in the end, counting my sidebeasts and making sure every body was accounted for as was my habit whenever we fought. Lis and I were both made captains that day. A thing that had only been done under the Commander, and not since; two captains to the mouse legion- Orleon hated it and Marc pushed for it saying we were a team. Brothers in arms, I believe he called it. So I had finally fulfilled my vow to my Da and myself. I was now a Captain of the Mouse Legion of the Southern Armies. Forgive me for not patting myself on the back for my achievement; shoulder injury, you know.

Now, don't start criticizing me for not going into detail about the battles or my rise to captaincy. At the time, they were immaterial to me. And looking back, they still are to a point. They were simply a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. A beast who those battles mean more to can tell you all about it. I won't stop him.

Following the battle, we finally drew out the rest of the vermin out and disposed of them. After that, we were able to go home. Home. What was that to me now? But then I remembered, a light smile creeping on my face as we marched away from the cursed trees and vines, I had a home. Clara. I remembered Clara. I did have home; I just had to start it first.

* * *

"Coa ralen?" the Lady Helene said as Lis and I entered her presence chamber upon our return to the Mariner's Manor after our march. She didn't even bother to lift her head from the screen she was embroidering when we came through the doorway. At our silence she said again in a frustrated tone. "Coa ralen?" _You returned?_

"Mom, where standing right in front of you," Lis sighed in common tongue, boldly rejecting her Wardswich diction. "Of course we returned. We're not soft-paws."

"Liswano!" she snapped and eyed him down her prim little nose. "Wardswich."

"Nope," Lis challenged and crossed his paws. "Plain tongue, Mom. I'm sick of putting on airs."

I remember thinking- _What the Fates are you doing, you dumb stump. Just talk her bloody language and be done with it._ But then, Lis was trying to make a point. He was his own mouse now and if he wanted to speak in a common language then he could. He was no longer the youngest son of the wealthiest creature in Carminack- no; he was now a Captain of the Southern Armies. It had been his bravery and leadership qualities that had won him the title; leadership that began with him not putting on unnecessary airs, but rather highlighted his ability to relate to all creatures. The Lady Helene was not impressed by her son's show of independence and scowled at me as if I had something to do with it, commoner as I really was. Sure, blame me for your son being tired of false pretences. I didn't care.

"Wine?" she asked plainly after a short silence and motioned for us both to sit by the fire.

"Only if it's elderberry," Lis smiled like a spoiled mouselet and plopped down in a chair, happy to have gotten his own way. "Where is every beast?"

"On the ships," his mother replied awkwardly. "Lyca is being married at sea."

"Lyca's getting married!" Lis smiled at the mention of his youngest sister. "Mom, why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't back by the time they departed, so what does it matter?" the lady replied with a shrug and looked at the empty bottle on her sideboard with a sigh. "Where is that serving lass with the wine? Clara!"

I instantly straightened in my chair at the mention of her name. She was here. I couldn't help the smile that erupted on my face as I started to fuss with my jerkin under my blue cloak and adjust my sleeves.

"Why aren't you at the wedding?" Lis asked quickly. "Mom- its Lyca's wedding!"

"I don't approve of the mouse," she snipped and turned up her prudish nose. "She's throwing herself away on a tradebeast."

"Mom, she's your daughter…"

"She went against her family by lowering herself. She is dead to me now."

I looked at Lis and he shook his head. His mother was a spiteful beast when she was angry.

"A lot has changed in a couple of seasons," he sighed and leaned back in his chair to rub a knee. It was something I noticed him doing more often on our march, especially on the damp, rainy days. He never let on, though, that even back then those knees bothered him. True Lis right there- never show your weakness, only show your strength.

I just nodded and opened my mouth to speak again when the Lady Helene shouted again.

"Clara! More wine!"

I don't know why, but I was nervous. I felt my paws go clammy and my footpaws fidget. Lis looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. Yes, yes, he knew. Of course, he knew about us. Who do you think gave me the idea about the store room…? Oh wait- you didn't know about that one. Huh. Hope you didn't have the lettuces… Oh. Ha, sorry?

"Ah, Mom, do you notice anything, well, different about us?" Lis asked, trying to make conversation that would take my mind of my reunion. Brushing his paw over the heavy blue fabric over his broad shoulder, he added, "Something… titlish perhaps?"

"I'm old, not blind, Liswano," the Lady Helene snapped back at him. "Yes, I saw your cloaks. Yes, I know you're captains. General Marc sent your father a missive about it. Lisandro will congratulate you both when he returns from Lyca's hoax."

"But not you?" Lis said coldly. There was no love for him as far as his mom was concerned. All her love went to Laec- their first born. Her daughters she saw as political pawns and her other sons were just nuisances as far as she was concerned. At her silence, Lis scowled and turned to me, "I've had enough of this…"

"I comin'!" Clara called from the stairwell. "I comin' yar ladyship!"

"Well, hurry up! My son and Ratherwood are thirsty."

I stood up and pulled my cloak over my shoulder and tried to flatten the creases. I wanted her to notice I was a captain. For the first time since putting on that blue fabric I actually felt pride in wearing it. I want to see her expression, I wanted to see her smile, I wanted… whoa, wait- what was… that?

I looked at Lis quickly when Clara came into the room carrying a heavy tray with wine, bread and cheese. His look was the same as mine and we both gaped at the maid as she walked to the sideboard and lay the tray on the table.

"I don't understand what took you so long, Clara," the Lady Helene berated her when she made an awkward curtsy towards us. "Many a maid has worked while carrying and done it much quicker than you!"

"For'ive me, yar ladyship," Clara replied, blushing at my speechless expression. "I jus' be tired t'day. I be bet'er in tha mornin', ya see."

"You had better be," Lis' mother barked and waved her off with her paw. "You're done for the day. Go home and rest and be sharper tomorrow."

"Yes, yar ladyship," Clara whispered, holding her large belly as she dipped a wobbly bob. As she turned to leave, she gave me a quick glance and, seeing me still gaping at her, looked away, closing her eyes in shame as she waddled out of the room.

"So, er, Mom," Lis started after he pulled me down to my chair by my cloak. "Clara's, er…"

"Ready to spit out a runt, yes! Like Carminack needs more common mice running its streets."

"She married?"

"There was talk about some porter's son shortly after the army left."

"You don't know for sure?"

"I don't really care…"

I let my head flop back to stare at the ceiling. The porter's son. The one I saw in the market. The one who was shaking Callum's paw. Hellsgates- should've punched him.

"Ratherwood, do you want some wine?" the Lady Helene asked me as she held out a goblet. I nodded and walked over to her, but instead of taking the cup, I took the bottle from her paw and walked out of the presence chamber to be on my own.

* * *

Lis found me a few hours later on the balcony off the great hall that overlooked the shipyard below. I was just sitting on the railing watching the creatures walk about the docks, waving and returning a kind word or two to beasts that recognized me and called up. I even got the odd- "Captain!" here and there that, despite myself, made me smile. My captaincy was something for me to be proud about. There's no greater feeling, you know; pride that comes from holding something that you alone made- something that was truly yours. I was just finishing waving to one of the spearbeasts from the squirrel legion when Lis clapped me strongly on the back and jumped up onto the railing beside me.

"You know, we didn't think this through," he jested and wiped a paw mockingly over his brow. "Before we had the choice of taking off a cloak when it's hot out. Now, we don't have the ruddy option."

"Well, with you around there's always a breeze," I joked back and smiled at my dig that he was full of hot air.

"Hey, now what's that supposed to… ah, wait a moment," Lis smiled and pointed downwards as a group of mousemaids were walking down the wharf on their way to a fishmonger.

"Oh, Lassies!" Lis called after them and laughed when they turned, blushing in their whispered giggles at us. "Fancy the catch of the day?"

"Lis, leave them alone," I chuckled as they continued giggle and point at us. I suppose we were catches of the day to them. Two handsome (ya, I'll say it, we were back then) mice, obviously captains connected with the manor and, by Lis' taunting, looking for a good time.

"What? You mean to tell me you don't want… Ah, Rath- you scared them off."

"That was you!" I laughed and gave him a nudge with my shoulder. "Do you know when your Pop'll be back?"

"Nightfall, probably," Lis said scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Why are you waiting for him?"

"I want to find out where they buried Mum," I said with a sigh. "The other kitchen maids didn't know. I want to go show her I became a captain and say goodbye."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," I said and jumped off the railing. "I don't want to wait for dark. I'll just go look about the necropolis myself. She'll have a marker I'm sure."

"Mom made a comment about a stone one," Lis said as he too jumped down to walk me to the gate. "Look for that."

"Did she say any more about Clara?" I asked. "Any more about her marriage?"

"No, just what you heard. You know Mom- doesn't involve herself in servants' lives."

"She must have been married shortly after we left to be that large already," I said naively. You know, the thought never entered my mind it could be… I mean it couldn't be- she took herbs for it.

"She must have," Lis sighed. "I'm sorry, Ratherwood. I know how much you liked her."

"I'm sorry too, Lis," I said with a weak smile. "But there are others, right?"

"Thinking about settling down then?" he asked with a chuckle. "And here I thought the two of us would enjoy bachelorhood for life!"

"I think I want a family," I smiled. "I think I'm ready for one. I want to have something to return home to after a march besides a cold bed."

"Doesn't have to be cold," Lis smirked and looked a passing maid up and down.

"Don't you think you had enough tail on the march?" I laughed once he turned around and we could continue our walk.

"And you didn't get enough!" Lis laughed back. "Ah, Ratherwood- stop thinking so much and enjoy life!"

"I will, Lis," I grinned once we reached the gates and he waved me off down the street. "Happiness is before me- I can feel it."

* * *

I found Mum's grave easy enough by the large stone marker at the head that only Lord Lisandro could have bought for her. I smiled at the inscription he had tapped in to the dark rock which included both my father and my names. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that Mum would have been pleased with. Gently, I laid down the few wildflowers I had picked on my walk through the necropolis on the marker and whispered my goodbyes to her. I told her I missed her and would always remember her. I told her I was a captain now and would make her and Da proud to call me their son. I didn't cry. I knew that she was with Da and so would be happy. I smiled to think he would have been waiting for her at the Dark Forest gates and she could run up to him, flour still on her paws and apron from her baking, and finally hold him tight. I knew Da would take care of her and she could be at peace.

After a short while I made my leave, casually walking through the city streets and letting myself enjoy the extra berth the creatures gave me when they saw my cloak, the respectful nods and "Captain!" called out from legionnaires as I passed them. I stopped and talked to a few of them, inquiring after their families and homes, their wounds if they had any and made sure they were healing alright. A few of them I sent back to the barracks to be reassessed by the healers- telling them to say _Captain_ Ratherwood sent them to be rebound. I was just rounding the bend when I heard a bunch of calls and whistles from the tavern just down the street.

"Git back!" I heard a voice yell. "Yar nothing but a bunch o' uncouth ruffians!"

"Aw, mate, no need for that!" a drunkard slurred at the mouse I recognized as Fennan leading a creature with its cloak hood pulled up. "We're only having a bit of fun…"

"Yes, well one o' ya already had a spot o' fun, now dinna ya?" Fennan said boldly. "Now- stand back!"

"What's going on here?" I shouted from the top of the street my arms folded across my chest. When all the creatures turned to me I added, "Is there a problem?"

"Er, no, Captain…" a mouse I recognized as part of my legion stammered out and took a step back from Fennan and his charge.

"Good," I said coldly and motioned Fennan to walk forward to me. "I didn't think there'd be."

"Come on," I heard Fennan say as he pulled on the paw of the creature he was leading. "It be Ratherwood. We be alright now."

"What are you doing, Fennan?" I said once they reached me. "What was all that about?"

"I be jus' tryin' ta git us 'ome tha fastest way," Fennan sighed as we started to walk down the street towards the baker's cottage.

"Us?" I said and bent down to look at the beast under the hood. Clara. "Clara, why are you hiding under there…?"

"I 'ave ta," she whispered and looked up to me, her hood falling back and revealing the mud and bits of food on her cheeks and stuck in her headfur. "T'ey dinna… I jus' no well-liked."

"Creatures threw things at you?" I asked angrily. My blood was boiling.

"If ya wou'd tell Fadder 'oo did this ta ya, he wou'd make 'im marry ya an' this be all for naught, Clara," Fennan put in. Clara just shook her head and pulled the cloak tighter about her rounding body. I was silent. What did Fennan mean, make her marry; was she not already…

When we reached the cottage, Clara broke away from us and went to the fountain to try to clean herself up. I tried to sound nonchalant as I made some small talk with Fennan, giving him a few coins for some breads and tarts to take back to the manor. Once he left to fill my order, I walked over to Clara and sat beside her as she was trying to wash the mud from her face.

"Clara?" I said quietly, picking a piece of mouldy bread from one of her curls and tossing it aside. "Clara, you're…"

"Yar a cap'n now?" she interrupted me and continued to wash her cheek with the corner of her cloak. "Congratulations, Ratherwood."

"Yes, I'm a captain," I replied with a light smile, proud that she noticed my achievement. "Clara…"

"I sorry 'bout yar modder," she continued with her small talk. "She be a kind mouse. Tha manor ain't tha same witout her."

"Thank-you, but Clara…"

"Ya were gone a long time. Yar march was…"

"Clara!" I said sternly and grabbed both her paws to get her to look at me.

"Yes, Ratherwood?"

"Clara, what Fennan said back there… you're not married?"

"No," she whispered and crimsoned to a red deeper than her fur. "I no married."

"But the Lady Helene said something about a porter's son."

"He wonna take me like this."

"You're carrying," I gulped. "Clara…"

"It be yars, Ratherwood," she breathed and closed her eyes shamefully. "It be yar mouseling."

"M-mine?" I blinked, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. "I thought you… I mean, you took herbs to stop this."

"T'ey dinna work, I suppose," she sighed and rubbed her hard belly. "Me Fadder is furious, me Modder won look a' me. Fennan be tha only beast who be nice ta me…"

"Why didn't you tell them it was mine?" I said and put an arm around her. "Clara, you're having my babe- this is nothing to be ashamed of…"

"I dinna know if ya wou'd claim it," Clara whispered. "I dinna wan ya to be dishonoured if ya dinna wan it…"

"Dishonour me?" I laughed. "How would this dishonour me?"

"E'ery beast thinks so highly o' ya," Clara said softly. "Ya held in high regard, Ratherwood. An' yar connection wit tha Mariner's family. No beast is gonna believe ya wou'd da such o' thing."

"Do such a thing as what- lay with a pretty maid?" I jested. "What am I now- a eunuch?"

"Ratherwood, I…"

"Clara!" Callum yelled from the doorway. "Git yar tail in here, lass!"

"I 'ave ta go," Clara said quickly and got to her footpaws. "Me Fadder dinna like me out where others can see me."

"Clara, come live with me," I said quickly before I lost my nerve. "I mean, I'll get a cottage… we can be a family."

"How are ya gonna…"

"Clara!" Callum called again. This time I waved at him and smiled at his surprised expression.

"I'll go to the alderbeasts, I'll get assigned a cottage," I said warmly. "I'm a captain now so I will bring in enough coin from my marches for them to garnish and still have enough to live off."

"Ya wou'd do tha for me?" Clara said, wide eyed. "For… us?"

I just smiled and nodded. Reaching out timidly, I placed a gentle paw on her rounded belly and exhaled loudly. I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath. I shouldn't have touched her, but I didn't care. Clara grinned happily and placed her paw on mine.

"It be a good babe, ya know," she said softly. "'Ardly gives me any trouble…"

"He'll be a good lad," I said firmly. "He's ours- how can he anything but perfect?"

"Oh, Ratherwood," Clara laughed. "How da ya know it be a laddie- it may be a wee lass!"

"It'll be a male," I said oh so confidently, as all males are when they find out they sired a babe. "And we can name him Rayley after my father."

Clara just grinned. Hearing Callum clearing his throat loudly behind us, she let out a sigh.

"I 'ave ta go now," she whispered.

"I'll come for you tomorrow," I replied firmly and held her paw. "Right after I meet with the alderbeasts and get us a cottage. Look for me by mid-morning; we'll tell them together and I'll take you home."

"Ba I need ta be a' tha Mariner's Manor for tha ladyship in tha mornin'…"

"No, you don't," I said with a smile. "I want you to rest. Clara, you look exhausted. It's not good for the mouseling if you're tired."

"Clara!"

"Comin' Fadder," Clara called and turned slowly away from me. As she walked away, she held herself a little higher and walked a little prouder despite her father's hard stare and sharp words when she made it to the cottage door. I waited until she was safely in the house and the door closed before I turned on my heel to go back to the Mariner's Manor, holding myself a little higher, walking a little prouder and wearing the second largest grin of my life.

Foolishly, I thought everything was going in the right direction, thinking this was my path. But I had no other way of know what was going to come next. No beast could have guess what happened was going to be the next step. The sages say to become wise, you must first experience great loss; you must know understand the power of the Fates and Seasons and realize the full measure of your strength once you have been tested to the very core of your being. Looking back, as I walked away from the baker's cottage with that foolish smirk on my face, I was walking straight towards my test without even knowing it. My lesson in wisdom was about to begin.

* * *

**If you read it, please review it!**


	6. Ratherwood's Tale-Part6:A Different Path

**Here it is- the sixth and final part of Ratherwood's Tale. Sorry, it's quite long, but I couldn't take anymore out.**

**Tissue Warning.**

* * *

**Ratherwood's Tale: PART SIX- A Different Path was Chosen for Me**

_''Only add  
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith;  
Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love,  
By name to come called charity, the soul  
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath  
To leave this Paradise; but shalt possess  
A paradise within thee, happier far.''_

_-_John Milton_, Paradise Lost-_

I kept quiet through the night and shocked every beast at the morning meal. I waited for the Lady Helene to make a snide remark that Clara hadn't shown up for duties, then took great pleasure in telling her I told her not to come in. I remember the room fell instantly silent and Lars started choking on his bread while Leland and Latimar each dropped their spoons in unison. Every beast just stared at me, even Lis.

The Lady Helene gave me a look that I swore was going to explode with fire and demanded to know why I thought I, of all mice, had the authority to command her servants. I just leaned back on my chair and smirked at her in my reply, saying that I had the authority to command the mother of my child and that I told her to rest. I thought she was going to reach over the table and strangle me if it hadn't of been for all the questions pouring in from the brothers, Lis' sisters giggling, Lisandro's broad smile and Lis' booming laughter above it all.

Confidently, I told them I was going to see the alderbeasts that morning to secure a cottage and after that, Clara and I would have a home together. Lord Lisandro offered for me to bring her to the manor and we could make a home as my parents had done, but I respectfully declined his offer. It was time I stood on my own two footpaws after all.

My meeting with the alderbeasts went smoothly and luckily due to my incredible negotiating abilities, or the simple fact that they knew who I was and my connection with Lord Lisandro, I was able to procure a cottage with a walled off bed chamber for the same garnish as an open one. I thought that Clara would like that. Happily, I followed a hedgehog from the cobbled streets of the upper city of Carminack to the lower parts that twisted and turned in narrow, muddy pathways between the cottage hovels. Such was Carminack. The higher you went, the dryer you were and ironically, the closer to the sea. The lower you were, the further from the docks, but the wetter it became. Looking back it really was a backwards city in every aspect.

Oh, but where was I? Yes, walking with the hedgehog he finally stopped at the top of the path and pointed to the cottage directly in front of us.

"That be the one, Captain!" he laughed and clapped me on the back. "Rethatched the roof meself last fall."

"So you're saying I should expect a leak come winter?" I jested and laughed as he gave me a little shove with his shoulder.

"Oh no, Captain- it be a fine little place," he laughed. "Go on- have a look."

Nodding, I strode off to my new home, stepping around a pair of running young squirrels as they chased each other down the street. I smiled to think that would one day be my little Rayley running around with his friends. Maybe even a brother.

Opening the door, I ducked under the short doorframe and entered into my new home to inspect it. It had two windows. One to the right of the door and the other I could see lighting the small chamber to the left. Walled off chamber indeed. Sure there was a wall, but no door. Oh well, it was nothing a curtain didn't fix for the time being. Inside the chamber, there was a good sized bed and a chair on either side. There was no wardrobe for our clothes, but maybe I could buy one depending how much they were. I could let Clara pick it out. She'd like that.

Centering the main room was a small hearth with a long drying rack and two fire hooks. Above the mantel there were two pegs to place a weapon. I smiled. The creature who lived here before me must have been a fighter too. On the far right wall of the cottage was a row of cabinets and a tall sideboard that had nicks out of the top where it had been used as a cutting board. The only other furniture in the place was a rough pine table and two chairs.

"They tell me the bed was just re-strawed," a strong voice came from behind me. I wheeled around at the sound and was startled to see Laec of all beasts standing in my doorway with an armful of firewood. "And the flue has been cleaned. You shouldn't have to worry about it catching fire."

"Laec, what are you doing here?" I asked with great suspicion in my voice; I half expected Lis to show up at some point, but not Laec.

"Helping you settle in, Inkpaw," the mouse said matter-of-factly and chuckled at his own use of my old nickname. "Thought you might need some wood for that fire."

"Er, thank-you," I stammered out, completely thrown off by his unusual display of kindness. When Laec discarded the wood by the hearth I scoffed my footpaw in the awkward silence that followed. "I'd ask if you'd like a drink, but…"

"Loulen's bringing some," Laec said with a wink. "Lis is distracting the kitchen maids while he and Lars raid the larder and cellar."

"What?" I laughed at the comical thought.

"And Leland and Latimar are off to the market to get you some reeds for the floor," Laec continued. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

Taking the haversack from his back he first handed me a small purse of coin from Lord Lisandro and the Lady Helene for me to keep in case I ran short and needed something, then opened the sack to reveal some small blankets and a few tiny robes.

"They're from Larissa, Lema and Lyca," Laec said quietly. "For the mouseling. They are just our old stuff they managed to find, but we weren't sure if Clara would have had time to make anything seeing as Mom works her to the bone."

"Thank-you, Laec," I whispered and looked up at him. "Why are you all doing this?"

"Because whether Mom wants to admit it or not, you're family Ratherwood," Laec said firmly. "Even Pop feels that you are. He was more than happy when he saw us gathering things for you. I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up here, you know.

"I know I haven't always been the kindest mouse, Ratherwood," Laec continued as he knelt by the hearth and started laying logs on the grate. "But it wasn't always in scorn. You know, your father's death threw me for a loop too."

"Oh, I'm sure it was really hard on you," I said spitefully before I could stop myself.

"It was," Laec sighed. "You know, he switched positions with me in the formation. He knew it was the more dangerous flank they put me on and somehow he weaved he way through the ranks just in time to shove me back and take my spot. When I asked him what he was doing, he just smiled and told me he promised Pop he'd keep me safe. And he did. I lived through the battle and he never came home. I thank the Seasons every day for his bravery and think constantly about what would have happened if he hadn't pushed me back."

I was just silent as he took a flint and tender from his belt pouch and strike a spark to light the wood. Laec had never opened up to any beast before. I didn't know how to respond.

"I had a whole speech prepared of what to say when I had to tell every beast Rayley wasn't coming back, but when I saw your mom run down to me and then collapse when she saw he wasn't there, I couldn't remember a single word. I…," Laec sighed and collected himself before he spoke again. "I never felt so horrible in my life as to hold a maid that had just lost everything. I still remember your mom shaking in my paws and there was nothing I could do. And then you ran down and…"

"You snapped at me and called me names," I interrupted, recalling the scene like it was only yesterday. "In front of my own Mum, you called me names and then roughly told me Da was dead without a care."

"I did care, Ratherwood," Laec breathed. "I'm sorry for my harsh words. I didn't know how to react. For all the brave speech I had prepared in my head, I couldn't get it out. I could only say the truth, cruel and cold as it was."

"Laec, why are you telling me this?" I said impatiently. "After all these seasons, you're telling me this… now?"

"Just keep yourself safe when you are in battle, Ratherwood," Laec said sternly. "I know you and Lis are now captains and have to lead the charges, but do it safely. Just remember that if you don't it will be Lis who has to make that walk to tell Clara and your babe that you're not coming home ever again. I don't wish that on my brother, ever. There is no worse feeling to hold some beast whose life was just ruined."

"I'll keep myself safe," I nodded and pulled him up to his footpaws just as Loulen and Lars burst through the small door.

"Who wants ale?"

* * *

By mid-morning my little cottage had fresh reeds on the floor, blankets on the bed and the little kitchen had some old earthenware flatware and cups from the manor. I knew Clara was going to laugh at the food that Loulen and Lars brought in; I may not have had flour for her to make bread, but by the Seasons we had mounds of candied chestnuts, carrots, smoked fish fillets and ale. Two small kegs, actually. Leave it to the drunk of the family to remember the important stuff. Regardless, it was a start and at least that night we wouldn't be hungry. I was surprised that Lis didn't join his brothers, but Lars said he had something he was doing and would be along later that night.

I thanked them all for their generosity and ushered them out of the cottage so I could go collect Clara. I wound my way through the pathways up towards the market and once there I took special notice of the families and seeing what the maids with young ones seemed to be buying. There was a little toymaker at the end of the row and I smiled to think I could buy little Rayley a toy when he was old enough to play with one. Pausing for a moment at the table I looked at the wares; blocks, tap-sets, miniature boats, wooden swords and little sewn dolls littered the table.

"Kin' I get ya anything, Captain?" the squirrel merchant smiled at me. "A gift for your liddle 'un, perhaps?"

"Not yet," I smiled. "But I'll be back."

"Right you are, Captain," the merchant nodded and turned to the next customer beside me.

I gave a little laugh and continued on my way to the baker's cottage. Oddly, I couldn't smell any bread or tarts in the air which you could usually catch on the breeze. I shot a quick glance to where Callum's stand usually was set up, but the space was bare. Where were they?

"Ratherwood!" I heard Fennan call and I turned to see him and Callum sitting in front of the baker's cottage on the step. "Thought ya might com' back for those breads you paid for yesterday and didn't take."

"Well, h'll 'ave ta wait now, won he?" Callum said in an annoyed tone. "We 'ave ta wait until the lass be done afore we can git back ta work."

"Lass be done?" I said shaking my head. "Back to work?"

"We canna be ina cottage while Clara be birthing," Fennan clarified for me. "We be sitting outta hours afore dawn!"

"Clara's what!" I roared and let my eyes go wide. "Why didn't some beast send for me?"

"Why wou'd we sen' for ya?" Callum said raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Because I'm the father, that's why!" I snarled at him. "I should have been the first beast you sent for!

"Where are the midwives?" I snapped into Fennan's astonished face.

"'Er modder be wit 'er," Callum said coldly, his eyes narrowed towards me. "I no be wasting coin on…"

"Fennan, go get a midwife!" I commanded him and pushed a few coins in his paw before shoving him roughly down the street. "Run, lad!"

"Ya canna go in, lad!" Callum yelled at me when I put my paw on the latch of the door.

"The 'gates I can't," I snapped at him and pushed my way through the door. "It's my babe she's birthing."

"Ratherwood!" Callum called, but I already strode across the room and was trotting up the stairs to the chambers. When I reached the top I could hear a soft moaning sound and panting coming from the last chamber on the right. Opening the door quietly, I saw Clara writhing in pain on her little cot and her mother patting her paw. At the sight of me, Clara gave a loud groan and reached her paws out for me. To my surprise, her mother moved away without a protest and let me near her. Clara must have told her. She must have known.

"Clara?" I said softly pulling her damp curls from her face. "It will be alright. I sent Fennan for a midwife…"

"She shou'da 'ad a midwife hours ago," Clara's mother growled from the corner. "Captain, your babe be not comin' proper. There be something wrong."

Clara just groaned and twisted in my grasp, trying with all her might to hold in her screams. I couldn't believe how much pain she was in and how she was able to stay so quiet. But I guess she had been doing it for two seasons now, what were another few hours?

"The midwife will help her," I said confidently and gave her a warm smile. "Clara, everything will be alright."

"She be at it for hours now and tha babe not be moving," the mousewife said again. "It be stuck."

"Then they'll unstick it," I replied sharply. I didn't know much about birthing, but I highly doubted something said like that was hardly helpful to Clara. I was pretty sure by her painful expression that she knew very well the babe was still inside her belly.

It wasn't long before I heard the door below fly open and a loud bustle of activity ensued downstairs; loud voices ordering fires stirred and pots to boil, sheets to tear and towels to fetch. Within a few moments, a team of three portly females, one squirrel and two hedgehogs, appeared at Clara's door and clucked at the sight of her.

"Babe not be turned in that maid, eh?" the squirrel chuckled and went the feel Clara's heaving stomach. "It be alright, Captain Ratherwood. Go down with the other males and we'll call you when it be time to hold your young one."

"I have to go now, Clara," I said softly and smiled at the fear receding from her eyes now the midwives were here. "I'll just be…"

"Out, Captain!" the larger of the hogs commanded me and all but shoved me from the door as mousemaid scurried in carrying towels and linen strips. "Here is not the place for a male!"

I chuckled and sighed in relief. I knew they would help her and I could just enjoy the excitement of what was to come. I was going to hold my little Rayley in a few hours. Happily, I padded my way down the stairs and squeezed out of the busy kitchen to where Callum and Fennan were standing by a gathering group of creatures. Seeing the midwives trot through the streets following Fennan arose an interest in the onlookers and they tailed to the baker's cottage.

"I thought I only gave you enough coin for one midwife?" I jested with Fennan, avoiding Callum's burning stare. "There's a whole team of them in there!"

"Aye, I be gettin' 'un, ba once t'ey heard it be for a Captain's babe- well, t'ey all done drop their things an' came a-trottin'!" Fennan chuckled and grinned. It was obvious he was happy for his sister and for me. Callum on the other paw, was a different story.

"So, ya be tha scamp who done rutted on me daughter," he said harshly. "Some Captain."

"Some father to not order a midwife for his daughter!" I snapped back. "Callum, did you see how much pain she's in up there?"

"A bit o' pain done teach her not ta be a wenchmouse," Callum snarled. "Ya turned me daughter inna a doxie…"

"Callum, enough with the insults," I said sternly and took a dangerous step towards him. "Yes, your daughter and I knew each other, and I'm sorry for the situation, but I wasn't here to claim it earlier. I am now."

"You be claiming tha mouseling, then?"

"Yes," I said boldly. "I'm taking them home with me."

"Oh, so me daughter can be onsite for where she works," Callum said mockingly. "I sure ta ladyship will love that!"

"I'm taking them to our own cottage," I said giving him a hard stare. "You won't have to worry about them."

I turned away from the baker to a group of smiling legionnaires, clapping me on the back and squeezing my shoulders. It didn't matter to them what the situation was. All that matter to them was their captain was about to be a father. I guess that was the difference between fighters and tradebeasts in Carminack. Tradebeasts had security and time to think about things that really in the grand plan of the Seasons, didn't matter a wit. They were spiteful to anything that wasn't perfect and proper. But we fighters thought differently. We knew how precious life was. We didn't sneer at a Seasons' gift regardless of how it was given to us for we knew how quickly the Fates could take it away. We didn't have use for things like finery and pomp. We had only what we held dear, the only things we could hold; family and friendship. I already had my friendships and now I was about to get my family. It was a great feeling. I felt like a king and soon I would have my little prince.

* * *

"Now, you must be quiet around the mouseling," the midwife explained to me as she led me through the baker's cottage and up to Clara's chamber a couple hours later. My pulse raced and my paws shook as I walked, but I forced myself not to run ahead of her and burst into the room.

"The mother be very tired," the midwife continued. "It be a hard labour for her and the babe be right sideways when we got here. We turned it, but it be still tough on her. She not be a big maid as you know."

I just nodded. I knew she was just trying to inform me on things that were important, but it didn't matter to me. I just wanted to see my Rayley. I just wanted to see my son. If I had of listened to her, I may have been more prepared. I may have even expected it. But I wasn't listening and… no, nothing was going to prepare me for that.

I saw Clara's mother standing at the doorway and she just nodded to me and smiled, relieved that the ordeal was over and things were relatively settled again. Before the squirrel opened the chamber door for me, she said added.

"We've given her only half a birthing cup, Captain," she said quietly. "The maid tells us you are moving them to a new cottage, so you will have to make sure she drinks the rest when she can sleep."

"Yes, yes," I nodded impatiently and pushed my way through the doorway, grinning boldly at the sight in from of me. Clara was propped up on the bed with her pretty smile shining down on the little bundle cuddled in her paws.

"Ratherwood!" she cried to me and held out a paw. "Oh, Ratherwood, she be perfect!"

"She?" I gaped. No, she didn't say she- Rayley couldn't be a she…

"Aye, Captain," the hedgehog chuckled from the corner where she was rolling swaddling bands. "You sired a maiden."

"M-maiden," I questioned, the wind dropping from my sails. A maid. I couldn't name a maid after my father.

"A wee little maid she is too," the squirrel midwife said firmly to me. "She's a little one. Very light. You must make sure she thrives…"

Again, I wasn't listening to her, but continued to watch Clara with the little one. As Clara adjusted the bundle in her paws, I thought I saw a little flash of red fur. Curiously, I walked to the cot and looked down at the mouseling.

She was a tiny little babe, thin and small. But Clara was a small maid. To me, our little daughter just took after her mother; right down to her red coloured fur. I gave a small laughed and knelt down to be closer to them. At my movement, the mouseling opened her little eyes to look at me and my breath caught in my throat. She had my father's gray eyes. My gray eyes. My little daughter had our gray eyes.

"Da ya wanna hold 'er, Ratherwood?" Clara asked quietly. I nodded quickly and held out my paws, my original disappointment at the babe not being male long forgotten now that I had seen my pretty little maiden.

"Alright, then," Clara giggled and gently handed me my daughter. "Mind 'er head now."

I still remember the feel of her in my paws and the surge of pride that coursed through my body as I held her tightly; almost afraid I would drop her if I didn't focus all my concentration on just her. She was light in my paws, but I didn't care. This was my little daughter. She would always be light in my arms. I was her father. I was always going to be the strong beast to chase her fears away. Ah, I had a daughter. I never felt prouder and the largest smile I ever wore erupted on my face. I had a little daughter.

"You will need to make sure she feeds every hour," the one midwife stressed. "She's a wee maid. She needs to get strong quickly."

"She'll be strong," I whispered in my blissful ignorance, not heeding what they were trying to say. "She's my daughter. My beloved little daughter."

"Wha are we gonna call 'er?" Clara sighed happily. "Wou'd ya like ta call 'er Hestia af'er yar modder?"

"No," I said softly. "She doesn't look like a Hestia."

"Something wit an 'R', then," Clara giggled. "A name starting wit an 'R' like yar fadder and yar names."

I just smiled my response. I liked the idea of carrying on our names with my little maiden.

"How 'bout tha name Rada?" Clara asked. "It be meaning joy from wha I be told."

"Rada," I mused and continued to look into my babe's gray eyes. "No, she doesn't look like a Rada. She is so much more than joy, Clara. Look at her; she's my beloved little daughter…"

"Ryna," Clara smiled. "Ryna means beloved."

"Then Ryna she is," I chuckled and touch my little Ryna's soft cheek with my finger. "My little Ryna."

"Captain, if you are moving them, you had better start going," the hogwife snipped from the corner. "It be a good walk to the legionnaires cottages from here and the babe will need another feeding soon. Remember- every hour."

"Yes, we should get going," I smiled happily and offered Clara a paw to help her out of bed so they could put a fresh gown on her. Turning my attention back to my little bundle, I grinned down at my daughter.

"Well, my little Ryna. Are you ready to go home?"

* * *

"Liswano!" I heard Clara exclaim as she opened the door in our main room the next morning while I proudly wrapped my little daughter in a soft green blanket on our bed. Picking up her little doll I couldn't resist buying her on our walk through the market, I waved it above her to make her coo and reach for it before tucking it into the blanket with her. I tickled her little belly and smiled as she gurgled in response. My little daughter. My little Ryna.

We had made it through the first night waking up what seemed to be every second moment to make sure little Ryna was feeding. One of my legionnaires' wives had come passed shortly after we made it home and gave us a small pine cradle to use as she figured we didn't have one yet. Another stopped by and chatted with Clara for a bit and brought a warm pot of vegetable stew so we didn't have to worry about making anything for dinner. Repeatedly, beasts rolled in, with well-wishes and advice, all happy to see another little babe in the world and proud that a captain was now one of their neighbours. I was thankful to Loulen's ale kegs after all- I must have handed out twenty mugs that afternoon.

So now the next day, we were into a sort of routine and though I was exhausted, I couldn't have been happier than holding my little daughter in my paws.

"Let's go meet your Uncle Lis, eh Ryna?" I fussed and rubbed her little nose with mine. She was the most precious thing to me in the world.

Picking her up gently, I came around the curtain as Clara ushered Lis through the low doorway into our home. I could tell by his expression he thought it wasn't much, and it wasn't, but it was my home none the less. The start of my little family's home.

"Well, it took you long enough to make it down here!" I laughed and clasped my friend strongly by the paw. "What took you so long?"

"I was wanted to give ya time to settle in," Lis said quickly and nodded towards Ryna still held in the crook of my arm. "I heard you had an exciting afternoon yesterday and supposed that today would be a better day to visit."

"Exciting is a word for it, I guess," I laughed and proudly held my little daughter so he could see her better. "This is Ryna. Ryna, meet your Uncle Lis."

"Uncle?" Lis chuckled and smiled at the little one. "Aw, she's a pretty one, Ratherwood. Congratulations."

"Here, hold her!" I said excitedly and passed her into Lis' arms. Instantly the smile fell from his face and his eyes flew to me. I could tell what he was thinking. She was still very light despite Clara's constant feedings.

"She's just a wee maid," I scoffed at his silence and nodded towards Clara. "Takes after her mother."

Lis laughed at my slight adaptation of Clara's accent and handed Ryna carefully back to me.

I smiled at my little Ryna and made silly faces at her, motioning for Lis to take a seat at the table. Clara brought over a small bowl of candied chestnuts and a pitcher of water for us and I laughed as Lis proclaimed that his brothers at least gathered the important things.

"Oh, the generals send their regards," Lis said after he had taken a quick drink of water and motioned to the door where my marching sack was stuff full. "And I brought your things from the manor. Figured you had better things to worry about than gathering shirts."

"Generals?" I questioned. Ah, training. I was a captain now. I had to be there every morning to train the legionnaires. Fate's fire. That means I missed two already. Not a promising start. "Ah, Hellsgates…"

"Ratherwood, no swearin' 'round Ryna!" Clara scowled me and took the babe from my arms.

"It's alright, Rath," Lis laughed. "Legion's all talking about the little lassie. Even Orleon cracked the barest of smiles and chuckled to say he was getting old- seen your family through three generations now!"

Waiting until Clara took Ryna with her into our chamber, Lis leaned in to me and whispered.

"Heard some of the fighters went and had a few harsh words with some of the traders who were given Clara a hard go of it. Let's just say they'll keep think twice before sneering at a carrying maid again, married or not."

"What?"

"Hard to make comments and throw things with swollen jaws and broken fingers," Lis added with a wink.

"Lis…" I said quietly and looked down at his paws, sighing at the small cuts from eye-teeth and slight swelling of his knuckles. What had he done?

"Told Lars to tell ya I had things to do," Lis snickered and waved me off.

"Lis."

"Don't worry about it, Ratherwood," he chuckled.

"Er, I have a present for you," Lis said sheepishly and handed me a small satchel. "I figure Pop sent you enough pomp for the little one, but this is for you now that you're going to be stuck in here watching a mouseling. Might as well practice so you don't lose so bad next march!"

Smiling, I pulled out an oilcloth, two cups and three odd shaped coloured blocks.

"Heranic!" I laughed and grasped Lis on the shoulder in thanks. "Lis, this game is illegal in Carminack. How in the Seasons did you manage to find one?"

"What's being a lord's son if you can't pull some strings?" Lis scoffed and took a drink of his water. "I had it made for you. You'll be the first beast to roll the que."

Guess I forgot to tell you about that little weakness of mine. See, Heranic was a game developed as a way for legionnaires to get more coin. It was a gamble, you could lose everything in your pocket, but you could also win big if the Fates were on your side. The alderbeasts of Carminack made it illegal seasons ago as many beasts were becoming too addicted to the game and debts were high. Lord Lisandro actually taught Lis and me how to play as a way to keep us entertained on the rainy days when we couldn't go outside. I even vaguely remember my father playing with the lord, but they didn't use coin, just drink and laughter. Ya, it was illegal, but who was going to question the Mariner Lord of Carminack in his own manor? Besides, it was said his game, which had actually been his father Lord Lysander's, was the original Heranic set. Yet, despite the laws, there were still a few beasts with a copy and they brought it along on the marches and we played it between battles- after all the game was perfectly legal _outside_ of Carminack.

"Ratherwood, will ya watch Ryna while I go ta tha market," Clara asked softly as she brought me out the fed and sleeping bundle. "I 'ave ta git a few items."

"Of course," I smiled and put down the game pieces to collect Ryna from her mother. "Are you okay to go alone?"

"The lass'll be fine," Lis chuckled and cracked the knuckles of his left paw. "Don't worry your head about her, Ratherwood."

"I be fine," Clara giggled as I handed her a few coins from my belt pouch. Inwardly, I sighed at the lightness of it. Seasons, I was just back from a march and already I was worrying about coin. I mentally made a note to eat less that night to make our food stretch out longer.

"I be back quickly," she grinned and giving Ryna a little kiss on the forehead, slipped quietly out of the cottage.

I settled softly down into my seat again and gave Lis a contented smile. I loved holding my little maiden in my arms. I loved being a Da and I loved having a little family, unconventional though we were.

"So are you two going to make it official then?" Lis asked me pointedly with a smirk. "I'd gladly stand beside you, Rath."

"Soon," I sighed happily. "I just want to get settled here and enjoy Ryna first, and then I'll ask her. I'll marry her and we'll be a proper family, Lis. I guess I just did it backwards this time, that's all."

"Ah, it doesn't matter which way you do it, it all comes out the same in the end. Will you look at the little lassie?" Lis chuckled as Ryna yawned and blinked her little eyes. "She's got your eyes, Ratherwood."

"And her mother's red fur!" I said proudly and adjusted the little one in my paws. "We need to hurry up and find you a maid to settle with so Ryna can have a playmate!"

"Oh no, you're the love-struck beast out of the two of us," Lis replied quickly and held up his paws in defense. "I'm not getting mixed up in all that love stuff."

Lis stayed most of the day, leaving only a few hours before the evening meal to go back to the manor. It felt good to have him there and even Clara was laughing at his dry jokes when she arrived back from the market, giggling and covering Ryna's ears whenever we got too plain with our comments. That night, when I tucked my beautiful little red furred daughter into her cradle I couldn't stop smiling. Curling up behind Clara on our bed, I pulled her to me and whispered words of love and happiness in her ear, kissing her cheek smiling at her sighs and wiggles to get closer to me. That night all three of us feel asleep as a happy little family, with no reason to think anything would be different come the morning.

* * *

I don't know what woke me up in the middle of that quiet night, but something did. I felt an odd feeling, similar to the one you get when you feel a beast looking at you from the shadows, but without the sense of foreboding- no, it was past foreboding, it was like unwept tears hanging around the room like droplets of rain on a tree leaf from a thunderstorm just waiting to fall. Looking around the chamber bluing in the moonlight, my eyes settled on Ryna's little cradle. She should have been up hours ago for a feeding, but she wasn't even making a noise.

I remember thinking that maybe she was finally going to let us sleep the night through, but looking back on it, I knew the thought was ridiculous- she was only two days old.

Making my way to her cradle I looked in at the quiet babe. My little daughter. My little Ryna. I smiled to think of what she could be dreaming of so peacefully that she didn't want to wake up from. Gently, I reached into the cradle to put run a finger down her cheek and instantly draw back and let my eyes go wide. Cold. Why was her cheek cold? Her blankets were still on, the fire still crackling; it was far from a chilly night. Why was my little daughter's cheek cold?

"Ryna?" I said in a choked whispered like I already knew. "Ryna, it's time to wake up, little one. Time for your feeding…"

Picking her up and feeling her limp body flop in my paws, I felt panic start to grip my heart and lungs. Putting an ear to her nose I waited for a breath. Any breath. Any movement of air at all. Nothing came.

"Ryna!" I called and clutched her tightly to my chest. "Clara, wake up!"

"Hmm," Clara mused from the bed and slowly sat up. "Ratherwood, can ya no just bring 'er ta me? I be so tired…"

"Clara, she's not breathing!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, louder than any battle cry I had ever shouted. Slumping down on the floor, I continued to try and wake my little daughter, my little Ryna, while Clara sprung to her paws and ran to my side.

"Ryna, wake up daughter," I croaked out taking rapid gasps of air as tears started falling from my eyes. "Wake up for Da, sweeting… Ryna, please wake up… breathe Ryna, please, please breathe!"

"Ratherwood, she no…" Clara whimpered beside me, laying a paw on our daughter's chest to fell for a rise. "She no breathin'!"

"No, she will!" I snapped, frantically thinking of what I could do, how I could save her. "She's just having a good dream and not wanting to wake up yet… that's all. She'll wake up. She'll wake up for her Da, because she knows that I love her and I won't live without her…"

I remember hearing Clara start crying and scurry away to the wall and lean against it for support. I remember hearing myself shouting Ryna's name over and over again, begging her to wake up. I remember the bangs on our door from our neighbours and hearing them call "Captain Ratherwood!" multiple times before finally bursting into the cottage with torches and worried faces. I remember the midwife they had called in kneeling beside me, coaxing me to let her see the babe. My little daughter. My little Ryna. I can still hear the gasps from the onlookers at the paleness of Ryna's sleeping face as I handed my most beloved possession to the old squirrelwife to take to the table. I even heard one beast mutter something about running to the manor to fetch Captain Lis or Lord Lisandro. I remember holding Clara tightly in my arms as we watched the midwife stretch up and shake her head at us. I remember Clara screaming and myself crumbling to the floor feeling all the happiness that could have been leave my body.

* * *

It had taken all my coin I had left to buy her a little wood marker and spot beside my Ma in the necropolis so I knew that she would be watched over when I was away. I didn't have enough left over for the moles to dig the grave so I had to do it myself. You know, I felt better doing it myself anyway. She was my daughter; I was responsible for her, in life and death. The Mariner's family came when I tried to put her in the grave. I say tried because I couldn't do it. I was sitting on the edge of the hole holding her little wrapped body, struggling to hold myself together with Clara behind me, pleading with me just to hurry. Lis and Loulen had run up to me and tried to pull me back, but it was Lord Lisandro who eventually coaxed me to give my little Ryna to him. I remember he held the little bundle to him for a moment, whispering to her how she was loved and how much she would be missed. Gently, he laid her down in the grave and Leland and Latimar slowly started filling in the earth around her. I know Clara cried and Lis had to hold me back the whole time. Other than that, I've tried to forget absolutely everything about that day. The day I lost my little daughter. My beautiful little Ryna with her red fur and gray eyes.

I had barely put my little Ryna in the ground when the army was called to arms after General Orleon caught word that the vermin were starting to terrorize the lands about three days march from Carminack. So with a heavy heart, I packed my things and with a quick farewell to Clara, I marched off to the eerie wail again. This time I didn't promise her I'd return. I didn't really care if I did. Maybe if I had, things would have been quite different. But as it would seem, a different path was chosen for me.

After a hard march and two quick victorious battles, we sat beside a small fire. Sore, tired and painfully choking down the sloop the Army fed us after a battle. It was some sort of gruel, hearty and tasteless, but all the same it easily filled the void in our guts. And, at least it was hot.

"A missive for you from Carminack, Captain," the mouse said cheerfully and held out a parchment to Lis, its seal broken. The generals had already inspected it.

"Thank-you, Rowik," Lis smiled and took the paper. "Lived through your first charge I see."

"Aye, Captain," Rowik nodded happily. "With you and Captain Ratherwood leading us, none of us newbies are worried about ever making a charge."

"Good to know that," Lis chuckled and scanned the missive. It was the general consensus throughout the legions and even the generals remarked on the number of newbies had increased since our instatements as captains. We were bringing back some faith to the army. Creatures were willing to follow us. It was, I suppose, an honour.

"Er, Ratherwood," Lis said, handing me the parchment. "It's for you."

"Me?" I laughed. I was getting over my mourning slowly and able to laugh a little as the hurt from Ryna's loss lessened. "Why would the Lady Helene be writing me?"

"It's not my Mom, it's… just read it," he said almost angrily.

I gave him a strange look and started reading the letter. It was a good deal of coin to send a missive to the army camp. You had to hire a private runner. I couldn't imagine what would have been that important that required such a note. I had no family anymore… well, I did have Clara. Wait… Clara.

_Dear Ratherwood._

_The Lady Helene is writing this letter for me so I must be brief. I hope you are safe and unhurt from battle._

_Ratherwood, there is no other way to say this but just to say it. I'm getting married. My father has arranged for me to marry the porter's second son and by the time you read this I will be a wedded maid. Please know that I will always remember you fondly and think of our little daughter often._

_Farewell, Ratherwood._

_Clara_

_This is a joke_, I remember thinking, reading the letter four times in total searching for a little note, a hint, anything that would tell me it was a jest and just to laugh. Looking into Lis' eyes I knew. I knew that it wasn't. It was real.

"C-Clara's getting married," I stuttered out and blinked furiously to try and control my emotions. "She's married to the porter's son."

"Bed-hopping rutter!" Lis growled and ripped the letter from my paws to throw it on the fire. "Ungrateful doxie…"

"Don't talk about her like that, Lis," I whispered.

"I will!" Lis roared. "Low-born wench was all she was, Rath!"

"Don't say that, Lis," I replied painfully. "Don't talk about Ryna's mother that way…"

"I have no other way to talk about her!"

"It's not her fault, Lis," I sighed, trying to let reason and logic control my heart so I could get through this. "I didn't ask her to be mine… we weren't bound to each other…"

"She birthed your bloody child, Ratherwood!" Lis snapped harshly. "That's a bond greater than any token. You got her a cottage, a home- what more could she want? She could have, should have, waited for you!"

"But she didn't," I said matter-of-factly. Getting to my footpaws I clicked my tongue against the sour taste rising in my throat. "I think I'm going to retch."

Slowly, I walked away from the fire and towards the trees where I could be alone. When I reached the pines I could hear Lis' angry yell and the sound of a toppling bucket. He was angrier than I was at that point. He could be. He wasn't the one in absolute shock and disbelief. He was the one with a level head watching a great friend struggle through yet another loss. I never found out why she didn't wait for me and agreed to be married to the porter's son. Perhaps I was too much of a reminder of Ryna's loss, or maybe she never did love me in the way I thought she did. But whatever the reasoning, Clara had moved on, and maybe it was time I did the same. They say things come in threes and they are right. Luckily for me, this was my third.

Unluckily, for the vermin that attacked us the next day I was over my shock. Every axe swing I made, I swung to kill. Every painful cry the cowards made, I growled her name and with every worthless creature I killed I snarled a vow: I would find my happiness one day.

As I walked around the battlefield after combat, I looked down at all the dead beasts, quietly holding their tales and thoughts in eternal silence. Pausing over a body of a slain stoat, I cocked my head to the side at the sight of a light smile on his lips. Whatever his past had been, whatever horrors he had seen, was now over and behind him. He had moved on to whatever end he was bound for and in his silenced past he was happy.

Stretching up I continued to look at him haughtily down my nose. Silence. Blissful, ignorant silence. Nodding in my self-actualization, I turned away from the field and mentally closed a tome in my mind of all my heartaches and tears, pushing it onto an imaginary shelf of dusty memories and unrecorded dreams. I closed my eyes as if closing a door to an archive room and when I opened them I felt surprisingly at peace. Taking a step forward, I left the battlefield with a slight smile on my lips ready to start writing a new volume of my life.

I hid my heartbreaks from others, but I never forgot them. I kept them locked inside me where no beast could find them. Only those absolutely closest to me ever found them out. How could I forget them- they made me who I became. Through my joys and sorrows I became the mouse I was supposed to be and for that, I will always be grateful. I knew great loss, but I also knew great strength. I knew what happiness was and was certain I could find it again.

And I did find my happiness. After two more battles, we all did. We all found our happiness once we started our own journey home. And that tale, my friends, is another's to tell.

* * *

**So that is Ratherwood's Tale, his hidden past. I hope you all feel a little bit closer to him now.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Also, next week, we'll start another installment of _The Journey Home_- a tale of a particularly comical pair of mice who we've caught glimpses of throughout Ratherwood's story. Here's a little teaser:**

_"When I was young, I used to sing_

_And drive my mom to drink anything!_

_She'd tell me to stop, _

_She'd say 'Hush up!'_

_But certain tunes just have a ring._

_I would sing in the morning and rhyme at tea,_

_I was paw loose and fancy free! _

_Finally, she asked me- 'Florgin what are you singin'?'_

_'__The Tail of Two Brothers' Mom-_

_Me and Flintin!"_

**Do you know who our next narrator will be? **

**Until next week!**


	7. A Tail of Two Brothers-Part 1: Brothers

**So here's part one of the second installment of ****_The Journey Home..._**

* * *

**A Tail of Two Brothers: Part One- Brothers**

_"When I was young, I used to sing_

_And drive my mom to drink anything!_

_She'd tell me to stop, _

_She'd say 'Hush up!'_

_But certain tunes just have a ring._

_I would sing in the morning and rhyme at tea,_

_I was paw loose and fancy free! _

_Finally, she asked me- 'Florgin what are you singin'?'_

_'__The Tail of Two Brothers' Mom-_

_Me and Flintin!"_

-Florgin of Southsward-

You know when creatures say you can't remember things when you're really young? Like way back I mean- in your first seasons of life. Well, I don't know why they say such things because you can. I can. Okay, so I can't remember being born or anything- that would just make me a mad beast, but I can remember learning to walk by hanging onto a spear rack and getting my little tail stuck under the wheel of the food cart as I clung onto my mom's apron while she dished out bowls of stew to all sorts of different creatures. I remember my first word was _Ma_ and jumping with excitement when Mom was able to sneak me a small piece of fruit from the generals rations.

But what I remember most, what I remember above anything else about my early life is the day I became a brother.

It was winter. No, I don't mean the snowy winters that the north gets; I mean a true Southsward winter. Rainy, damp and stormy. I remember it was such a night when I was curled up in my little cot at the back of the kitchen tent with Mom trying to tell me a story to put me asleep, stopping every now and then to clench her teeth and hold her large stomach. I even remember laughing when she made a particularly funny face and thinking she was just jesting with me. But regardless of how much pain she was in, she was determined that she was going to get me to sleep. Ha! Did I ever keep her going!

See I was in the 'why' stage. You know the one I'm talking about. The stage in a creature's life where every statement is followed by the question- why? Ha! Yep, you know exactly the one I'm talking about- look at you grimace!

Anyways, I was on my twenty-sixth why when Mom couldn't take it anymore and called for help. Whether it was help with the pain in her belly or pain in her ears from my prattle, I'll argue to this day, but whatever the cause, Mom was on her knees and paws groaning when the other kitchen maids came running in and pulled me off my cot. I remember hearing Mom protest saying to keep in my cot and she'd leave, but the a heavy set ottermaid pulled me out of the way muttering to my mom she was being ridiculous and to just stay put. I guess it made the most sense. That is where Mom slept anyways; on the floor by my cot under a quilt.

So out of the kitchen tent I was thrown with a cloak and ordered not to go anywhere for fear of getting my bottom whacked with a ladle. There was no way I was going to let that happen again (can you tell I had it done once or twice before) and so I plunked my tail on the ground and there I sat for hours, blowing water droplets off my nose and listening to the sounds of the army around me; the grinding of blades on the turning stone, the shouted commands and the odd painful scream rise up from the field surgeons' tent. I had no idea what went on there yet, but by the horrible sounds that came from it, even at a young age I had no desire to ever darken that pavilion in my entire life.

I must have eventually dozed off because the next thing I knew, I was shook awake by the same ottermaid that threw me out.

"Wake-up, thur, youngin'," she barked at me and pulled me to my footpaws and into the tent. "Ya Ma be wantin' ta see ya."

Leading me roughly by my little paw, the otter stopped when she was a few steps from Mom and gestured for me to go to her. I walked timidly forward watching the expression on Mom's face as I approached. She looked tired and excited at the same time, but also coy and had her body shifted slightly to shield herself from any unwanted eyes that happened to come in the tent. Looking up, she saw me shuffling my way towards her, not really know what to do.

"Come here, Florgin," Mom whispered to me motioned me closer to her spot on the ground where she always slept, but this time she had a pillow and an extra quilt placed around her shoulders to ward off the chill from her sweat soaked shift. "Come meet your little brother."

"'Rother?" I said, scrunching up my nose. "Wha that?"

"The babe, of course!" Mom giggled and tilted her bundle in her arms so I could see. And there he was. A little mouseling all wrapped up in a snug cloak from some beast, peacefully sleeping despite the storm raging against the canvas sides of the pavilion. Curiously, I scuffed my way forward to look at him, a smile creeping on my face.

"Ba, the babe 'as in your tummy, Mom," I pondered and gave my mom a thoughtful look.

"It was time for him to come out, Florgin," Mom giggled and patted my ears with her paw.

"Why?" I asked. Number twenty-seven. I was going for a record.

"Oh, Florgin," Mom sighed and smiled, but then started at the movement by the entrance to the tent.

I remember there was a loud clap of thunder and the flap for the kitchen tent flew up. Seeing two legionnaires appeared in the entrance, a large smile sprang to my face as I recognized my dad. No, no, not the wiry, big eared one; the mouse behind that one. My dad was the strong fighter holding the wiry one by the scruff of the neck in one paw and an arm twisted behind his back with the other one. Normally, I would get up and run to Dad as I didn't see him very often; I only saw him when the army was on a march, which we were oddly enough that winter. But there was a sternness to his eyes that I had never seen. It was a mixture of what I later came to recognize as hate and pain with a little bit of sorrow. So as they were coming towards us, I just stayed beside Mom and waited like the good mouse I tried to be every so often. That and the fact Mom was holding me tight by the paw to keep me in place.

"Get in there Larkin and at least acknowledge it as yours," I heard Dad growl at the legionnaire and toss him towards Mom and me. "At least have the courage to claim it."

I remember the uneasy feeling I got when Larkin shuffled over to Mom and looked down at my little brother, wringing his scarred paws apprehensively.

"Doesn't look like mine," he sneered. "It could be any mouse's bast…"

"Larkin, brave up and accept responsibility!" Dad shouted and took a dangerous step towards him. "Liana's not asking for you to provide for it; just to let the mouseling have a father."

"Fine!" Larkin snapped and glared at my dad. "It may have my ears."

Crazy mouse. My brother didn't have his big floppers. He had small rounded ears. Angrily, I glared up at the mouse with narrowed eyes, thinking, _Don you talk 'bout me 'rother that way._

"Do you want to hold him, Larkin?" Mom asked quietly and held my new brother up to him. "He's only an hour old…"

"Uh, later perhaps," the mouse replied and side stepped back towards the tent flap as the thunder clapped again and my brother let out a little squeak. It was the tiniest little sound I had ever heard.

"I have to go, Liana," Larkin muttered and slipped under the canvas before my dad could grab him again. I watched as my dad took a quick step as if to follow him and then huffed and waved off the attempt, turning back to Mom and me. I still remember the tightness of his jaw as he looked down at Mom while she rocked and soothed the babe in her paws. It wasn't until I was older that I knew why he gave her that look.

"Thank-you, Florus," Mom whispered and gave Dad a tired look. "Thank-you for trying."

"Liana," Dad started and then shook the words from his head and just continued to watch us.

"Lookit, Dad," I mumbled to him and pulled at his paw to turn all of his attention to me. Pointing to myself I puffed out my chest proudly, remembering what my mom had said I was going to be once the babe was out of her tummy. "I a _big_ 'rother."

"Yes, Florgin, you are son," Dad replied with a slight smile. Going down on one knee, my dad took both my paws in his and looked me square in the eye. "And you will be the best big brother that little one can have. Always look after him and keep him safe. That's what big brothers do. They keep their family safe and that's what you, your brother and your mother are, Florgin; your family."

"'N you, Dad," I smiled. "You me family, too."

Pulling his paw I got him to sit down at Mom's footpaws while I scurried up to look excitedly at the mouseling again. Looking back, it must have been pretty awkward for my dad. I mean, sitting there with a maid that had just birthed another mouse's babe, but at the time I didn't think anything of it. Hellsgates, of course I didn't think anything of it- I was only three seasons old. But there he sat, for me and Mom.

"Lookit 'is liddle pawzies, Mom," I giggled as my brother wiggled in Mom's light hold. "Dad- lookit 'is liddle earums!"

"Yes, Florgin, mouselings are the same as us, only smaller," Dad sighed and glanced into the little blanket with a slight smile. "He's a fine lookin' lad, Liana."

"Do you want to hold him, Florus?" Mom asked quietly, a pleading-type look in her eyes.

"I… uh…" Dad stuttered and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Liana, I can't do that."

"Does no male want to hold my babe?" I remember Mom whispering in rejection and letting a little tear roll down her cheek. I could tell Dad didn't hear her, but I did.

"I 'ill!" I shouted and jumped up and down waving my paw in the air. "I a male, Mom. I 'ill hold 'im!"

"Oh, Florgin, you're too little," Mom smiled at me. "Maybe when you're bigger…"

"I big now!" I shouted, plunking down on my bottom and holding out my paws to take him. "I a big 'rother. I hold. I hold 'im, Mom."

"I guess you are," Mom sighed and gently placed my little brother in my waiting arms, moving my paws to hold him properly.

"Careful of his head, Florgin," Mom whispered happily to me. "Not so excited, now."

"Not so tight, Florgin," Dad smirked at me and moved closer to help Mom position my paws. Sitting behind me, Dad showed me how to cradle the little mouseling in my arms as my brother squeaked and squirmed at the feeling of a new beast holding him.

"You have to be gentle with him, son," Dad said softly and kissed me on the top of my head. "He's just new to this world. You have to make him feel safe like he was in your Mom's belly."

"Okie, Dad," I smiled up at him. You know, I still remember the smile he had on his face as he looked at Mom and reached for her paw to give it squeeze and for that brief second, I could feel it. That word Dad had called us. A family.

"Dad, 'ill you sing us a tune?" I asked excitedly, for some reason wanting to show off Dad to my little brother.

"Ah, Florgin," Dad chuckled. "I don' t think now is the time…"

"Why?" Twenty-eight.

"Florus?" a mouse with a blue cloak said from the tent flap, rain dripping from his ears and snout. "Time for a raid. Get suited up."

"Aye, Captain," Dad nodded and gave me a quick smile. "Be a good lad for your Mom, Florgin."

"Yes, Dad," I smirked and giggled when he ruffled my ears.

"Liana," Dad said as he turned to leave. "Liana, try to get some rest aright?"

"I will try, Florus," Mom yawned and gently took my brother from my paws, motioning for me to crawl back up onto my cot and carefully she laid him beside me and covered us with a blanket.

I saw my dad give her a curt nod and dip under the flap the blue cloaked mouse was holding up for him. I watched as the mouse just kept staring at Mom until she spun around and pulled the quilt around her shoulders tighter to her body. The mouse gave a snort and walked over to the fire to put another log on the flames.

"Keep that babe warm tonight, Liana," he said in a gruff tone. "It's sleeting out there."

"I will, Captain Elgan," she whispered and painfully pulled her footpaws up to tuck them under the skirt of her shift. I could tell Mom was nervous. She was always nervous around Captain Elgan, but I didn't figure out why until I was older and saw how some males prefer to treat maids. I guess Mom was always good at hiding bruises.

I watched as the captain walked over to us and looked down at my brother and I, smirking and giving Mom a hard glance, before turning to leave the tent.

"Elgan!" Mom cried out despite herself and held out a paw to him. The sturdy mouse didn't turn, but just glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge he was listening.

"Please, keep Florus safe," Mom whispered to him. "Please, keep him in the back…"

"Liana, Florus is one of our best fighters," Elgan said gruffly. "His place is at the front."

"Elgan, please!" Mom pleaded. I felt strange as I watched them. I had never seen mom beg before.

"It'll cost you, Liana," Captain Elgan chuckled and looked at her with a carnal stare, his green eyes almost snake-like in the firelight of the kitchen tent. "It'll cost you more than you are probably willing to bargain for."

"When I'm healed, Elgan," Mom whispered to him.

"And you think I can be bought that easily?"

"I know what you want," Mom said quietly.

"That you do," Elgan chuckled and gave her a nod. "Fine. I'll throw his tail in the back, though I don't know why you care about him when he hasn't pressed a claim on you yet and lets you go about your business the way you do."

"He's the father of my son," Mom said defensively and sat up a little straighter. "And he at least gives me a kind word."

"A kind word- ha!" Elgan laughed. "Must have been some word, Liana."

And with that, he ducked under the flap and into the rains, leaving Mom and me alone with my little brother who was starting to wiggle and coo beside me. I saw Mom give a light shudder I thought was from the draft of the open flap, before she turned her attention back to us with her warm motherly smile she always wore for me.

"Well, Florgin," Mom whispered to me as she held my brother's tiny paws. "What should we call him?"

"I 'unno, Mom" I shrugged sleepily, the extra heat from the fire starting to lull me to sleep. "Wha you wanna call 'im?"

"Hmm," Mom mused. "How about Linkin?"

I scrunched up my nose and shook my head. Linkin was a horrible name. Linkin. Ugh, Must have been some birthing cup they gave my Mom. Oh, no wait. We were on a march. They didn't have that type of thing there. Nope, that bit of stupidity was sheer exhaustion and pain talking. Good on ya, Mom. Good thing I was there. Linkin… bah!

"Oh, look Florgin, he's going to open his eyes," Mom whispered to me and smiled at the mouseling. "Aw, there you are little one."

"Mom, he gots gray eyes," I chuckled. "They not brown like me and Dad."

"No, he has gray eyes," Mom smirked. "Eyes the colour of a flint stone."

"Flintin," I whispered after a few moments of silence while Mom fussed with him. "Mom, that 'is name."

"What's his name?" Mom asked as she picked my brother up when he started sucking on her fingers.

"Flintin."

"Flintin?"

"Yes, Mom," I said confidently, snuggling down on my cot, completely unresponsive to the crashing thunder, the beating marching drums or the sound of the horn's eerie wail. "Me 'rother, Flintin."

* * *

**So quite a bit of jumbled family dynamics there. It was quite hard to get Florgin's speech just right as he isn't a baby, but not quite old enough to have all his pronouncation down yet.**

**Well, onwards and upwards...**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	8. A Tail of Two Brothers:Of Songs & Wharfs

**Disclaimer: The song at the end, "What do you do with a drunken sailor?" is not mine originally, although I modified the bulk of the lyrics and only kept the chorus as the original words. It is an old sailor's jig that has many claims of authorship so I won't say any one in particular, but that it is not mine originally.**

* * *

**A Tail of Two Brothers: PART TWO- Of Songs and Wharfs**

"_Ripe, strawberries, ripe! _

_Any milk today, mistress? _

_Who will buy my sweet red roses? _

_Knives, knives to grind! Any knives to grind? _

_Who will buy? _

_Who will buy, this wonderful morning? _

_Such a sky, you never did see! _

_Who will tie it up with a ribbon, _

_And put in a box for me?"_

_-_"Who will buy?" from _Oliver!-_

Now, I know what you're thinking- poor mites had a rough go growing up and you know you couldn't be closer and further from the truth if you tried. Sure, we were poor, we didn't have much coin, and we were young ones, but we didn't think we had it rough. Both Flintin and I always recalled our childhood fondly, but I suppose that's because we didn't know any better. But then maybe it's because we didn't think it was all that bad. See, we had the same things as every other young creature. We had food and shelter and clothes. We had a loving mom to tuck us in every night and make sure our faces were clean. We both had dads; we saw with each march, which was really no different from other lads who saw theirs when they came home from one; it was just the reverse for us. But I suppose there was always one thing missing; something I felt only twice in my whole life and that was a home.

The first time I felt it, I was seven seasons old. The army was dispatching for the winter and we travelled directly south with most of the contingent of fighters to the great capital of Southsward: Carminack. See, Mom was now cooking for the generals and General Marc Stalwallows became so fond of her shrimp bakes and stuffed cod that he offered her a place in his household while the army was on leave. Mom graciously accepted the otter's proposal and with Flintin and me in each paw, walked the week long journey to the city. I'll never forget looking out from the hilltop and seeing the great walls jetting up from the rocks of the southern coastline when we were still a full day's walk away. That's how big the city was. I had never been so excited in all my life.

We entered the city to the blow of the army horns and beasts lined the streets waving and calling names. Creature by creature the legionnaires broke away from the ranks and made for their homes and families, until there was nothing left but Generals Orleon, Marc and Kentin and their personal guards, a pawful of scribes and healers, and of course the rows of single fighters who made their home in the army barracks. Oh and of course, Mom, Flintin and me.

Up the streets we went, winding our way through the city center, the market and the trade shops. I remember watching my footpaws as we walked marvelling at the cobbled stones beneath my paws. I couldn't believe that some beast had thought to drive rounded stones into the ground to make a path that wouldn't get muddy, no matter how much it rained. Ruddy brilliant creature whoever thought of that. Oh, sure it rained in Carminack- there was proof all around us in the puddles that pooled at the dipped edges, but the street itself stayed clean. Each time we passed a puddle, I felt Mom's paw tighten on mine in attempt to stop me from jumping into one. Ah, Mom, she must have felt me vibrating to splash into one. But hold me fast she did. It was her mistake she let go of my paw later.

When we came to a fork in the road, General Kentin directed the bulk of our group to the left and down a wide street leading to a tall stone building. Four stories high the grey block edifice rose from the cobbles, acting as stronghold and bridge for the Southern Armies. The lower level boasted an armoury and smith works; the second, dormitories, store rooms and kitchens. The third level was reserved for an infirmary and the fourth held the generals' meeting hall, map room and private chambers. It was plain and functional and you could see where Carminack's original outer wall built into its fortifications from its beginnings. The original wall itself was removed, its stones placed into the current wall that enclosed the whole civilization against the south plains and the sea. I suppose it had been strategically placed in its inception, but in its current state it was no different than an ugly overbuilt manor.

I watched as a group of lads my age ran past the legionnaires, weaving between their legs and bodies in a game of tag. I straightened up at the sound of young laughter and giggles. I hadn't ever played with another beast my age before. I had only ever played with Mom or Dad or Flintin. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a playmate or even a friend. One of them looked over in our direction and smiled when he saw me watching them. Laughing, the young mouse called the rest over to him and pointed towards me, whispering and throwing glances. At first I blushed, thinking they were making fun of my patchy clothes, but then I remembered I was wearing my good tunic and it only had one patch in the back which they couldn't see. I was trying to figure out what else they could be pointing at when one called over with a friendly wave.

"Come on!" a young squirrel called to me. "Come on and play!"

"Ya, dontcha wanna play with us?" another called with a smile. "It's tag- it's fun!"

I looked up at Mom grinning excitedly. "Mom, can I go play? Please?"

"Quickly," she said with a smile and adjusted Flintin's sleeping form where he was resting on her hip. Letting go of my paw slowly, she added. "Don't get dirty and come straight back when I call you."

"Yes, Mom!" I shouted and took off running towards the other lads. Once I reached the group, the one with the bushiest tail thumped me on the nose and yelled 'you're it!' and we all bolted out running and laughing in our game. I proved to be fast, tagging a mouse quickly on the shoulder before I heard Mom call my name and wave me back. My smile fell from my face. That was it? That's all the time I got? Looking back to Mom, I saw her wave me forward and I knew I had to obey her. Slumping my shoulders, I started back towards the army group. It wasn't fair. I wanted to keep playing.

"Where are you going?" the mouse called when they saw me walking back towards the small assemblage under General Marc banner.

"I have to go," I muttered and kicked at the cobbles as I made my way towards Mom's outstretched paw.

"But you just started playing," the bushy-tailed squirrel questioned, trotting up beside me.

"My mom is calling me," I grumped and diverted around a puddle.

"You don't melt in water you know!" the squirrel laughed and pointed at my careful paw placement. "You can step in a puddle."

"Mom said not to get dirty."

"And do you always do what, _Mommy_ says?" the squirrel mocked beside me and sneered back at his friends. "Hey, little ears here obeys his _mommy_ all gentle-beast like!"

_SPLASH!_

Alright, so the next puddle I came to was _really_ big. I couldn't resist jumping in it, taunting or not. And okay, soaking the squirrel with water was an added perk, but I was going to jump in it regardless. Like I said before, I _tried_ to be a good mouse and it was her fault for letting go of my paw.

"Why you little-

"What?" I challenged him, turning around and ignoring the droplets of water that tickled my nose as they dripped off the end of my snout and my whiskers. "Little what?"

"FLORGIN!" Mom exclaimed and gave me an angry glare. "Florgin, you come here this instant!"

Looking at the flabbergasted expression on the squirrel's face, I smiled smugly and turned on my heel to stride over to my mom as if I was a hero triumphant. My victory was short lived though as once I was within range I got a swift swat across my ears.

"Florgin, what did I say to you?" Mom chided me as she pushed me forward to walk in front of her.

"To come when I was called…"

"Not to get dirty!" Mom snipped. "Florgin, I just washed that tunic."

"Ah, he's going to get a mite dirtier than that running around Carminack, Liana," General Marc's voice boomed from the head of the column. "Let the lad have some fun."

"See Mom, even General Ma…"

"Florgin," Mom said sternly and I immediately shut my yap. That tone was usually followed by the swift sound of a ladle whizzing through the air aimed at my bottom and a crash of pots as I avoided it and dodged my way out of the kitchen tent. With a huff I walked forward with the rest of the group, shaking water from my ears and wiping more drops from my nose with my sleeve. Looking down at the plain cream linen, I scrunched up my nose at the colour of muck that came off me. I take it back. Cobbles definitely didn't make the streets cleaner. Sure there was no mud, but instead of soaked dirt, rock slime grew in the stagnant pools of water and now I was covered in it. No wonder Mom looked fit to kill me.

We walked down the right of the forked path for a short time, passing an impressive timber and stone building sitting on the highest point of the city. The Mariner's Manor of Carminack reeked with the prosperity the family held. And I don't mean just figuratively either. I mean I could literally smell the wealth fluttering from the chimney flues and open kitchen doors. Large iron gates were closed and barred against the regular life of the city and imposing grey furred creatures with long ears stared down at us from the wall. It was here a single mouse, richly clad in a maroon tunic and black cape made his goodbyes to the generals and strode haughtily to the gates, waiting only a brief second before they were thrown open and he entered into the manor's seclusion.

"Lord Laec, remember we'll feast in a week!" General Marc called to him as we trod passed. "I'll send word to you and your father!"

"Of course, General," Lord Laec replied and waved off the mighty otter as if he was nothing but a bug bothering him with flight.

"Takes too much after his mother, that one," I heard General Orleon snarl to General Marc when we were a good amount of paces out of hearing distance. "Not at all the beast his father is. We will have trouble with Laec when he succeeds Lisandro."

"Hopefully our cause will be over with by then," Marc said with a nod. "The vermin are getting fewer."

"We shall see," Orleon countered. "They breed every day."

"Aye, but so do we," Marc chuckled and looked back at me with a wink. Shaking his head at the state of me, he added. "And something tells me the braver have yet to come."

"You keep wishing that, Marc," Orleon huffed and broke away from the group to turn down a lane that housed his home. I tried to look down the path to see if he lived in anything as grand as the Mariner's Manor, but I couldn't see for his billowing green cloak and the contingent of squirrel guards who followed the badger in his wake. I can only imagine it was an impressive building. It did house the Badger General of the Southern Armies after all.

It wasn't much longer until we came to a pretty sort of building set back from the road and surrounded by a low stone wall. I say low because General Marc could see over it, but the wall was much taller than me. There were no gates, only simple pillars holding an arch over the entrance and a white chalky pathway that led to the front entry.

There standing at the large oaken door was lady otter dressed in a flowing apricot coloured gown. Seeing General Marc she smiled warmly and raised a paw in greeting, but did not move from her place on the threshold. The general said a quick word to his guard before striding over to his lady and swept her a grand bow worthy of a Badger Lord himself. Her eyes went wide in amusement and gave him a light slap in his shoulder where he caught her paw and brought it to his lips. They said only a few private words that I couldn't make out and then turned to us. I don't know when, but somehow I had moved back to Mom and was pushing myself into her shirts. Flintin was still asleep in her paws and I could feel her legs quaking slightly. Or maybe it was just my paws. Regardless, we were both nervous to meet our first lady beast.

"Oh Marc, you did not tell me there would be young ones!" She clucked at him and pushed her way past the General to greet us. "You only said you were bringing a new cook. Really Marc- _details_."

"Yes, Aerwyna," the general chuckled as his wife came up to us with a light smile. I remember her eyes were a pale green colour- like the wheat grass that grew in the forest meadows by the village of Flamring. "Liana, I would like you to meet my wife, the Lady Aerwyna Stalwallows."

"Thank-you for letting us stay in your home," Mom blurted out quickly in her nervousness.

"Well if your stuffed cod is half as good as General Marc's missives boast, the honour is mine, Liana," Lady Aerwyna said with a slight nod. Seeing the muck on my face, she gave a little laugh and dropped to a knee with her kerchief in paw. I was stunned when she gently wiped away the slime from my face and behind my ears as though I was one of her own pups and she tapped me on the nose before rising back up to look at Flintin.

"Oh, what a little sweeting," she whispered. "Look, he's absolutely exhausted. Marc, you didn't make them march in time to the army did you?"

"Well…"

"Oh, curse your tail Marc Stalwallows, they're only mouselets!" Lady Aerwyna berated him. "They had no need to move at the speed of an army. You should have hung behind with them and made their journey easier."

"And hold that little one back?" General Marc laughed and gestured to me where I was smiling up at Mom. I liked Lady Aerwyna. She was funny. I'd never heard a creature talk to a general so boldly before.

"It's all we can do to keep him out of trouble," the general added with a wink.

"Then you must not have found his mirth," Lady Aerwyna retorted and strode back towards the oaken door. "Find what holds their interest and it will ground them, Marc. Surely you know that."

"I bow to my lady's wisdom," the general chuckled and followed her into the house, waving for us to follow. I remember holding on to Mom's paw tightly as we entered the richly furnished home and my jaw aching from the hanging it did at the wall coverings and polished wood. It wasn't long before a messenger came for General Marc and excusing himself he promptly left for the barracks.

Lady Aerwyna gave us a brief tour of the household, pointing out which rooms were open for our use and which ones were closed against our entry. She showed us the kitchens and servants' quarters where she had reordered the arrangement of the cots so we had a corner all to ourselves. Flintin, who was awake by this point, raced me to our little curtained off section and happily we found we each had our own bed and a window that overlooked the market. Mom was awestruck at the generosity, watching us as we marvelled at our new lot. I remember Lady Aerwyna coming up beside Mom and pointing out the fact Mom's was a _single_ bed. I almost blurted out that Mom would be happy for any bed as she usually slept on the ground, but I stopped when Mom breathed a visible sigh of relief and Aerwyna smiled. Whatever they said in their unspoken meanings was way beyond my comprehension, but regardless of what it was, they were both happy in their collective agreement.

That night Flintin and I got tucked into our little beds in the servants' quarters with clean shirts, a full stomach and a warm blanket; a smile on our faces and sweet dreams in our hearts.

* * *

"Mom- lookit the boats!" I shouted and pointed out over the docks as I stood on the wall overlooking the wharfs, excitedly wringing my paws and gaping at the large sheets of canvas and timber masts about me. I loved going to the market with Mom to get supplies for the Stalwallows' kitchen. I loved going to the bakers, the fishmongers and the fruit stands, and if I was really good, Mom would let us walk past the wharf on our way home so Flintin and I could see the ships and the sailors.

"Yes, Florgin, I see them," Mom laughed at me. "They are the same every time we come past."

"Not ev'ry time, Mom," Flintin giggled and pulled himself up beside me. "Sometimes the big boats are down there and the small ones are back here and…"

"Okay, okay, they move," Mom smirked and adjusted her basket on her arm. I remember looking at her and never seeing her so happy. It seemed like we had the perfect life here in Carminack and though Mom was just a servant of the Stalwallows', we were treated well and had a fair amount of freedom. Lady Aerwyna was especially kind to me and Flintin, inquiring after us every day and ordering we had a cup of milk with our dinner each night to ensure we grew strong. Frequently, Flintin and I ran into her as we played around the narrow green space beside the general's home. She would just laugh at us and smile, encouraging us to wrestle and run- strengthen us up as she said to Mom.

It was odd, you know. Here she was, a proper otter lady happily married to a great General in the Southern Armies, and yet they had no young. Not that they had to have any children, but it seemed that every beast that was married did, especially, the high born creatures. I mean, General Marc was from a direct descendent of the Rainwreath Otterguard, surely he wanted to continue his line and Lady Aerwyna seemed to enjoy children enough. But the two otters seemed to care deeply for one another so perhaps that was all that mattered to them, or what they had become content with.

"Florgin, do you want to go to the fishmonger's yourself?" Mom asked me seriously and held out an empty bucket. She was starting to give me little responsibilities wherever she could and so far I hadn't been able to mess up walking to the docks and holding out a bucket for them to fill with the Stalwallows' pre-ordered list of sea-fare.

"Yes!" I shouted excitedly and jumped off the wall to take the bucket from her before trotting towards the steps to the wharf. Behind me I could hear Flintin whine that he wasn't included and Mom just laughing at him and tapping his nose in his pout.

When I reached the bottom step I bounded off and looked around me with a smile on my face. Creatures of all kinds bustled about the planks, carrying crates and barrels, nets and sails. Some whistled. Some called to beasts around them while others sang airy tunes or smoked pipes. I thought nothing could be as exciting as a life of a sailor. Just think of all the adventures they had!

Clasping the bucket firmly in my paws, I strode off towards the fisher's hut that was set up at the corner where the docks met the stones. There was a rough pine counter and holes cut into the wood where cages containing the various fish, clams and shrimps dangled in the cool waters below.

"Ah, it's the fetcher-lad from the Stalwallows!" the burly otter merchant called when he saw me. "Come for ya order, Master Florgin?"

"Yes I have, sir!" I said and lifted the bucket above my head to put it on the counter.

"An' how'd ya Ma like the oysters?" the otter smiled and looked above to where Mom was watching me from the wall top with Flintin. Shielding his eyes against the sun he gave her a little wave.

"General Marc says they were the best he ever had!" I said proudly.

"Good," he smirked and gave a little sigh as he looked to a vacant spot on the docks. "'Fraid you're gonna have to wait a mite, lad. Ship's not in with the clams yet."

"I can wait," smiled and plunked my bottom down against the rock wall out of the way. "I'll just wait over here."

The merchant just laughed at me and motioned for the next beast in line to come forward to fill their order. Resting my head back against the sun-warmed stones, I closed my eyes in a dreamlike state until my ears pricked at the sound of a tune fluttering about on the sea breeze.

"Lo, there you see them,

Marching with banners high,

Yelling their cries to the sky.

Brave ones and warriors,

The scum will be sorrier,

When the battle is nigh…"

Curiously, I leaned forward and looked down the docks to where a group of beasts were mending nets with hemp and heavy wooden needles. Thinking nothing of it, I got to my footpaws and wandered down a ways, sitting before them and observing them as they kept singing through the verses and passing around a bottle of dark liquid. They didn't say a word to me, but exchanged smiles to each other and continued on with their song. I just listened and grinned. I loved music. It was, as Lady Aerwyna had put it, my mirth.

"Gold sails and treasuries,

Sparkling keen in the night.

The red prince did leave,

But his courage we keep

And keep fighting for him

Through the night…"

"Ship ta port!" the watcher called from his tower above us and bellowed to the dockyarders below. "Ship ta port- it be the _Waverider_!"

I watched as the creatures all sprang into action. Whatever boat this _Waverider_ was, it must have been awfully important.

"Best get outta the way, lad," a kindly old salt said, pulling me back towards the rocks again so I didn't get stepped on. "That be the Mariner Lord's ship comin' in."

I was reeling inside. I was about to see the Mariner Lord of Carminack! As the lines were tossed to the decking and the boat hauled in to port I could hardly contain my excitement until I heard a Fate-awful retching sound coming from the starboard railings of the ship.

"Get his cursed tail off my ship!" A loud voice bellowed as the ramp was lowered and a strongly built mouse strode down it shouting orders to his deckpaws. "Drag him off the railing if you have to and the next beast to puke on my deck is using their own ears for a mop!"

I clapped my paw across my mouth to hold in my snickers as the insults continued, becoming more colourful as it progressed. Comically, I watched as a mouse about ten seasons my senior stumbled across the main deck and threw himself over the port railing, retching into the sea as the ship bobbed on a small wake.

"How are you still spewing?" the mouse called up to the ship in mock disbelief. "Lis, you puke anymore and your balls will suck up your arse!"

"That's not fair, Lars!" the sickly mouse protested and held in another heave as he waddled his way down the ramp painfully. "You've had seasons more than me at sea…"

"Aye and good thing too," the mouse named Lars said almost absentmindedly as he looked over some documents he was handed upon his arrival back to port. "Some beast is going to have to do the work while Laec plays _his lordship_. It's certainly not going to be you with that gut and Loulen's too drunk while the 'twits' too careless. At least be useful and make sure they unload the crates properly."

"I can…" Lis started, then seeing the ship dip on another wake, he clapped his paw over his mouth and bolted for the end of the dock, throwing himself on his belly and loudly expelling any contents that remained in his stomach. I couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Luckily for me, so did the rest of the 'yarders and sailors as they went about their business unloading the vessel.

"Lars, did you not give him the chalk to drink?" said a stern looking mouse with a richly embroidered mantle covering his deep green tunic as he strode from the slate steps which led to the manor high above us. He was confident and firm looking, but had a kind look to his eye. Formally, two of the long eared grey beasts followed in his shadow, bodyguards as they seemed, but I doubted the mouse needed it. Every creature was giving him a wide berth. This must be him. The Mariner Lord of Carminack!

"Gave it to him the moment we left port," Lars sighed and waved off the crewbeasts beside him as he watched Lis still retching over the side of the dock. "Didn't make a bit of difference."

"Except I can now vomit different colours!" the mouse yelled between heaves. "Seasons Pop, what was in that stuff?"

"Get him back to the manor and throw him in a bed until he stops puking," the lord commanded and gestured to the two guards to collect his son. "Lars, you're going to have to pick a different brother for a first mate…"

"Master Florgin!" the fish merchant called to me, pulling me out of my eavesdropping and waving me over to the counter. Quickly, I trotted up to him and retrieved my bucket now overflowing with shrimp, mussels and freshly unloaded clams.

"Best be on your way now, young 'un," the otter winked at me. "Don't want those fine foods a spoilt by the sun. Ya get those home quick-like else they being givin' General Marc a belly ache and we don't wants that!"

"No, sir!" I smiled and trotted off towards the steps with my bucket in both paws. Behind me I could hear the dockyarders singing as they unloaded the rest of the _Waverider's_ cargo and found myself humming along to the tune as I skipped between beasts and around piles of supplies. By the time I reached the stairs, I was singing right along with them as I waited my turn to climb up to the market above where Mom and Flintin were waiting for me.

"What do you do with a drunken sailor?

What do you do with a drunken sailor?

What do you do with a drunken sailor,

Early in the morning?

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises

Early in the morning!

Shave his tail an' cut his whiskers!

Shave his tail an' cut his whiskers!

Shave his tail an' cut his whiskers,

Early in the morning!

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises,

Early in the morning!

Put 'im in a dress an' make 'im wear it!

Put 'im in a dress an' make 'im wear it!

Put 'im in a dress an' make 'im wear it,

Early in the morning!

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises!

Weigh-hey and up she rises,

Early in the morning…!"

Grabbing Flintin's paw when I reached the top, I skipped off in front of Mom with him towards the general's home singing:

"Weigh-Flint and up we're risin'

Early in the morning!"

Oh, how I loved Carminack!

* * *

**So we get a little bit of comic relief with Florgin's Tale. He's a little bit scrappier than the rest of the Southsward fighters from TSAHF, as we can see with his little altercation with the other young ones.**

**The next chapter reveals an event that had a great impact on him and would stay with him for the rest of his life. Betcha can't guess what it is- there's been hints all through this chapter about it! wink wink ;)**

**IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW IT!**


	9. A Tail of Two Brothers- Part 3: Talents

**Thank-you to Lady Storm, Saraa Luna and Jade Tealeaf for their constant reviews! To the others of you out there reading these tales- hurry up and write a review or two! It doesn't bite you know ;) hahaha**

* * *

**A Tail of Two Brothers: Part 3- Talents**

_"__Hide not your talents, they for use were made,  
What's a sundial in the shade?"_

_-Benjamin Franklin-_

So my winter in Carminack passed pretty much uneventful. Oh sure, Flintin and me got in lots of trouble. Ladle whacks and ear flicks at least once a day- two if it was a storm and we had to stay inside, but oh, did we have great fun! We ran about with the other young lads of the city, jumped in puddles, tried to sneak treats and fruits from the stands in the market, listened to the sailors sing, got chased away from the gates of the Mariner's Manor by those long eared types- you get the idea. Each day we seemed to come home with a scratch or a bruise or at the very least a new rip in our already patchy clothes. Now, don't get me wrong- we weren't completely wild. General Marc gave us one chore we had to do and that was to see that every hearth in the house had fresh logs beside it each day. It was a good job and we tended to it every morning, stocking the fire grates and cleaning out the ashes, but with two of us doing it we were done by midmorning and ready to have an adventure! Ha! Oh Mom- was getting right frustrated with us by the time spring started to come around. I swear she dreaded sound of the booming laughter the general's guards made when Flintin and me wandered through the archway, dirty and smiling with mischief. We were quite the sight most of the time and Mom would just lean over the half door of the kitchen entrance and cluck her tongue at us, shaking her head as if to say, _again?_

See, I was… how did Lady Aerwyna put it… growing like a pike in a freshwater stream, and each day my shirt seemed to get tighter. I had long outgrown my tunic, so I only had my vest to wear overtop which was small in itself and not very warm against the damp winter chill of the season, but hey, I didn't say anything. I didn't want Mom to get that look in her eye like she did when she was patching up Flintin's shirt and he asked if she could use the same coloured material as his shirt for a patch so he maybe wouldn't get teased as much. I remember she just went quiet and her eyes got glassy, but she nodded and tore a piece off her own cream coloured apron to sewn onto the hole of his shirt elbow. I didn't know at the time why she got that odd expression, or why her face flamed red when one of the other kitchen maids mumbled something about my shirt being too short, but I know I never wanted to see her face go like that again. It had been Lady Aerwyna that stopped their chatter by clearing her throat and striding into the kitchens for her daily instruction of what she and the general would like for supper that evening.

That night I made an effort to give her an extra big hug when she tucked us into our little cots and told her she was the bestest mom in the whole of Southsward. She smiled at least and gave me a kiss on my head before settling down to tell us our bedtime story, pausing every few sentences for Flintin's constant 'why' questioning. Ha- poor Mom had to go round two with him, though he wasn't nearly as bad as me. I only counted him saying fourteen whys before I feel asleep.

I remember that night I had a dream. It was an odd dream. One I didn't bother remembering until nearly a week later when it all made sense.

I recall hearing a soft voice and the sound of three sets of footpaws walking down the floor planks of the servants' quarters. The voice was mumbling something about room to grow and double stitched the hems, whatever that meant. I remember paws holding a string like thing to my arm, my chest and the length of my leg, and another gruffer voice muttering words of numbers and a scratching sound of a quill. I really should have opened my eyes, but I didn't. It was late and it was just a dream. Grumbling in my sleep, I rolled over and didn't think anything of it. As I drifted off back to my real dreams I heard the soft voice whisper.

_Don't worry, Liana. Just get them through a couple more days and you'll see. _

And in a few days we did see. _I_ saw anyways. In a few days, I saw a lot more than I ever thought a beast could see. In a few days, I learnt we are not all how we seem and inside all of us is something a little deeper.

* * *

"Now, Florgin hold still!" Lady Aerwyna laughed as I wiggled with excitement from where I stood on a stool in front of the fire in the kitchen. I remember shifting on my footpaws and anxiously wringing my fingers as I eyed the pine box from the tailors'. I didn't know what was in there, but judging by the naked state of Flintin and me, we were about to get new clothes. I suppose my dream really hadn't been a delusion after all; Lady Aerwyna's voice must have been the soft voice I had heard and the others the tailors she had commissioned to make us new wares. She must have been standing in the doorway for a while all those days ago. She must have heard more than I originally thought she did about our lack of outfits.

Flintin and me were just getting out of the tub from our weekly bath when my lady came in and gave a mock scream at the sight of us, comically berating us for our bare-tails in a lady's presence. We just laughed and even Mom had giggled before shooing us off to the hearth wrapped in a sheet to dry off while she discussed with Lady Aerwyna her plans for that evening's feast. My lady had just scoffed at her and told her she had more important things to tend to then what a bunch of pompous beasts were going to eat, assuring Mom that her cooking would rival the Mariner Lord's cook herself and to not worry- all would be perfect. Taking a stool from the corner, Lady Aerwyna had waved me forward and patted the seat with her delicate paw, smiling and telling me she had a surprise for me. Cautiously, I got to my footpaws and stood before her as she mischievously opened the lid to the box for me to peek inside.

She made a game out of it; getting me to try and look inside and then snapping the lid closed, her eyes twinkling with merriment every time I giggled. Finally, I caught a glimpse of the contents and with a large grin, looked over my shoulder to where Mom was now sitting with Flintin in her lap at the table.

"Flintin- there's new shirts in there!" I said excitedly and my brother clapped his paws.

"Lemme see!" Flintin gasped and tried to wiggle off Mom's knee.

"Oh, no you don't!" Mom chuckled and pulled him tighter to her. She smiled happily as she added. "One at a time, Flintin. Mind your manners."

"You'll be next, Flintin- don't you worry!" Lady Aerwyna laughed and turned her attention to me. With a wink she said, "There's a bit more in there besides a shirt, Florgin."

"There's more?" I gaped and tried to look inside the box, but her paws pulled me back straight on the stool. I remember looking into her pale green eyes and thinking that she looked just as excited as me. I thought I felt a slight shake to her paws and a low quiver in her voice. And you know, she was; it was just that she was trying to hide it deep down. She was trying to be proper as a noble lady should be, but looking back she was bursting inside to jump up and down in revelry.

"Now, first the shirt," Lady Aerwyna said softly and handed me a light blue linen with a plain string tie at the neck. "You put that on while I get your jerkin out."

Quickly, I tossed the shirt over my head and tied the strings as my lady reached into the thin wooden box again, pulling out a steel blue long jerkin with navy trims and silver clasps. I recall clapping my paws at the sight of it and hearing Mom gasp and Flintin squeal in anticipation of what his might look like.

"Now, arms out so I can fit this on you," Aerwyna said gently as she helped me into the sleeveless jerkin. Doing up the clasps carefully, she flattened the rich fabric over my shoulders and gave me a smile. "There. That's a little better than that vest, huh?"

"Mom, lookit me!" I exclaimed and turned on the stool to look at her. I could hear the tremors in my voice as I stammered out broken sentences and took gasped breaths. "Look- the jerkin goes to my knees; just like General Marc's does and lookit- the clasps are silver!"

"Lady Aerwyna, this is too much," Mom sighed and gave the lady otter an astonished look, letting Flintin off her lap so he could come admire my new jerkin. "When you said you would like to give them new clothes, I had no idea…"

"Oh, nonsense, Liana," Lady Aerwyna scoffed and turned me around by the shoulders to look at her again. "It's the least General Marc and I could do for all the extra help they have been around here. I don't think our fires have ever burned so true or their wood grates so full!"

Flintin and me beamed at the praise and puffed out our chests a little higher. We felt like real important beasts now, just very small important beasts. But that didn't matter; Lady Aerwyna Stalwallows had noticed our efforts and to us, that was as good as a promotion to a captain in the army.

"Now, there's something missing," Aerwyna said with a smirk and tapped her lips with her fingers as if in deep thought. "What do you think it is, Flintin? Do you know what your brother could be missing?"

"A hat!" Flintin giggled and jumped up and down trying to look in the box. "A hat with a large feather!"

"No, that's for you!" Lady Aerwyna laughed and retrieved a dark maroon archer's hat with a long gold-coloured feather. Dropping it on my brother's head, the otter lady adjusted it between his ears and smiled as it flopped forward. "Well, it may be a bit big for you yet!"

"Big!" A load voice boomed from the kitchen door and we all turned to see General Marc grinning broadly at the sight of us. "Aerwyna, the hat is the size of that young one's head!"

"Lookit me, General!" I said loudly and jumped off my stool to run to him. "I got a long jerkin- just like you!"

"Ah, I see that lad!" Marc smiled and crossed his arms to inspect my clothes. "But it's missing something. What else does Lady Aerwyna have for you in that box?"

"I dunno!" I giggled and ran back as my lady was reaching in to retrieve another article. I could hear it in General Marc's voice, too. I could hear the eagerness in his tone and when Lady Aerwyna pulled out the next token, I saw the pride in his smile when I glanced back at him. I must have made a gasping sound or maybe I even squealed, but regardless of whatever sound it was, it caused the general to give my shoulder a squeeze.

"Well, we thought you were old enough to wear one now," General Marc said with a warm nod to his wife and then a wink to Mom. "A real little mouse, this one is becoming after all!"

I just nodded and fought the urge to jump into the general's paws as he took the article from Lady Aerwyna and fitted it to my little waist. It was a wide belt made of fine black leather and a large silver buckle. I was speechless as the general chuckled at my silence and pulled some of my jerkin out around it to mimic his own style of dress.

"That's better," he said in a soft tone and gave me an approving smile.

"And how about me, General Marc?" Flintin called from the stool where Lady Aerwyna had put him so she could dress him in a similar jerkin made of maroon cloth with a cream shirt. They were cut to the same long style, but instead of silver clasps, Flintin's had brass and in place of a belt, he had a canvas waist cord. "Lookit- I get a jerkin too!"

"Lady Aerwyna's got you both kitted up like a pair of players!" Marc laughed and went to stand beside Mom. Directing her attention to the box, he added, "There's an extra shirt for both of them and a cape each for when it rains…"

"And by tomorrow there should be another plain, everyday tunic for each of them," Aerwyna put in as she tied Flintin's little waist cord. "And when Flintin is old enough, we'll get him a belt too!"

"I don't know how to thank-you enough," I heard Mom say quietly, almost as if she was embarrassed to have us dressed so finely. "Florgin, Flintin- thank Lady Aerwyna and General Marc, please."

"Thank-you!" I yelled loudly and threw myself into Lady Aerwyna's paws. I felt like a whole new mouse and looking into Flintin's eyes I knew he felt the same. I believed I was the luckiest mouse in the world. I had to be. Not every beast got clothes fit for a noble when they were just a kitchen maid's offspring after all.

Once I said my thanks to General Marc and he gave me another ruffle on the ears, Flintin and me ran over to Mom so she could see our new clothes, prattling and turning so she could see us. I remember looking over my shoulder to give the otters another smile and I watched General Marc place a strong arm around Aerwyna's shoulders and hold her paws in his other. Gently, she leaned into his shoulder and he rested his chin on her head, closing his eyes and breathing a shuttered sigh as if this had been a hard task for her and he was relieved it had gone over well.

"Florgin," Mom said sternly, bringing me out of my stare. "Florgin, will you take Flintin outside and play while I start preparing the Stalwallows' feast."

"Yes, Mom!" I said happily and took my brother's paw to lead him to the door as creatures started carrying in crates of foodstuffs. It was a big event after all; much larger than the other seemingly every day feasts Mom prepared for the otters. This was supposed to be some sort of Change of the Seasons feast or something like that, and every important beast in Carminack was to be invited.

"And don't get dirty- please!" Mom called out as we reached the door. Ah, Mom- really? It's like she didn't know us at all.

"We promise, Mom!" Flintin yelled over his shoulder as we squeezed between some baskets containing all sorts of different vegetables and fruits. Once in the sunshine, we laughed and raced out of the courtyard and down the street to find whatever trouble we could get into. Hey, all she said was to stay clean- she didn't mention anything about getting into a little mischief.

* * *

We didn't get into that much trouble. Surprisingly, we didn't get into any trouble at all. After Flintin and me ran through the market, dodging creatures and swiping a pair of apples off a cart (okay, maybe one thing- but we didn't get caught!), we made our way to the docks where we sat on the stones, overlooking the ships and listening to the sailors sing below us. I tried to sing along, but my voice pitched or dropped every so often and Flintin teased me that I sounded like a maid. I hated it. I couldn't help how my voice went. It just did crazy tones lately without any rhyme or reason. It was so infuriating.

Once the sun started to dip towards the sea, Flintin and me made our way back towards the Stalwallows' home, giggling and laughing when an old squirrel chuckled at our new clothes and said we looked like a pair of long-tailed otter pups with big ears. The fellow beside him took up the banter and said we were _mups_! Crazy timeworn clumps of fur. We were mouselets. They probably should have used that round piece of glass that we caught General Marc using once while he looked at some missives from Constillion. Oh, did we laugh at him for that! Even Lady Aerwyna had a chuckle and teased the general about getting old. Ha. What a joke!

Anyways, we got home just as the beasts were all arriving for the feast and were hurriedly ushered towards the servants' quarters to stay out of the way. And we did. Flintin and I _tried _to stay out of trouble remember? We or I should say _I _couldn't help it if trouble always found _me._

For hours we stayed up there, watching the creatures from the window, making tents with the bed sheets and playing war with the pokers from the fire, so by the time Mom and a handful of other serving creatures dragged themselves up for bed, the whole chamber was turned right-side up and left side down with us passed out in the center on a mound of pillows. I can only imagine the bickering and grumbling that would have gone on, but it was there stupid fault for leaving us alone. And what did it matter- we didn't bug them. We didn't bug the important beasts feasting. All we did was let our imaginations run wild. What was so wrong with that?

I remember waking up in the middle of the night with my legs throbbing; something that in addition to my voice going loopy whenever it felt like it, I had to endure. Short of a war wound, there is nothing more painful than growing pains. I sat up and rubbed my legs, grimacing at the ache deep in my muscles and joints. Seasons, they hurt. Beside me on his own cot, Flintin was sound asleep and beside him, Mom was snoring away with the blanket pulled up high on her shoulders. There was no point in waking them up because I hurt. Not when I could just walk for a little bit and it would take most of the pain away.

Getting out of bed, I padded my way down the rows of cots towards a side table by the door where a pitcher of water always sat with some cups in case a beast got thirsty in the night. I thought that maybe if I had a drink, it would make my legs feel better. Solid mouselet logic there for you; ya sure, swigging some plain water was going to numb pain. Ha! Guess I didn't know about a real pain reliever yet…

"Aw, not fair," I mumbled as I turned the empty pitcher over and watched as one, little, tiny speck of a droplet fell out onto the floor planks. If I wanted any water I was going to have to go down and get it mysel… instantly, I straightened up and I had an insatiable thirst; for water or adventure, I don't think it matter, but all I knew is that the moment I stepped out of the servants' quarters, I was in for something exciting.

I got almost to the kitchen when I heard the sounds of laughter and music filtering from the feasting hall. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs I looked at the two options I had before me: turn left and keep going down towards the kitchens, get my water and then go back to bed, _or_ go right and see what all the excitement was about _then _go get my water and go to bed. Of course I picked the second one and working about the shadows, made my way to the servants' door. To my absolute luck it was open a crack and I was able to steal a glimpse of a very unattractive vantage point of a squirrel bottom. Uh, couldn't he move out of the way- I wanted to see the dancing!

"Excuse me, sir!" a loud voice chimed to the squirrel and I had just enough time to jump back when a footbeast pushed his way through the serving door with a tray of empty bottles and goblets held high in his paws. He didn't notice me as he strode past, nor did any beast for that matter when I sneaked through the door and dipped behind a hanging tapestry on the wall.

I thought what I was doing was pretty harmless. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I mean a feast couldn't be nearly as exciting as the sailors' jigs and songs on the wharf, but I had to see why every beast made such a big deal about it. It was after all just food, drink and a bit of music.

Peering around the arras, I looked at all the beasts standing and sitting around the hall. General Marc and Lady Aerwyna were at the head of the room on a long dais with a mouse I recognized as the Mariner Lord and the snottiest looking mousemaid I had ever seen. I guess she was a prettyish type, but it was hard to tell when she held her nose so high it was like she was trying to touch it to the iron candelabra that was suspended from the ceiling over the feasting table. Some of the other creatures I recognized; Generals Orleon and Kentin, a few of the more prosperous merchants in the city, alderbeasts, coin lenders and a few army captains… and him.

I couldn't believe he was there. I couldn't believe General Marc would allow a snake into his home. A snake that now only had half a face after the raid the army made the night Flintin was born. After that battle, the Seasons had finally given him a face that was as hideous as his character. His payback for his cruelty to Mom would come later, but at least he only had one of those green eyes to stare at beasts now. And only one ear to hear with. And only half a mouth to chew with and…

"Elgan- hurry up and drink that ale!" General Orleon boomed from where he was leaning against the large mantle on the side wall. "Marc is going to start thinking you're insulting him!"

"Not at all, General," Elgan slurred, already well into his cups. Taking a large drink, a good portion of ale dribbled out of his left side of his mouth and onto his shirt. I couldn't help but laugh and sneer at his misfortune, and it was that little flutter of laughter that caught the beast's ear. I saw him cock his ear towards my giggles and his eye narrow in recognition. It was like he had trained himself to hear my sounds knowing that if I was close, Mom was near.

Clapping my paw over my mouth I turned around to bolt back to the servants' door when his rough paw caught my upper arm.

"What are you doing here, Florgin?" the captain sneered at me as I wheeled around to give him an astonished look. I still don't know how he moved that fast, or how he managed to find me so quickly, but however he did it, he got me. "This is no place for you."

"Lemme go," I growled at him and tried to pull my arm away from his hold. "Lemme go, Captain Elgan!"

"Or what?" the snake-mouse laughed at me then narrowed his eye. "I'd better make sure you get back to your mother…"

"No!" I snarled and pulled harder on my arm, I still didn't understand at that point what he fully wanted with Mom, but I knew whatever it was, I didn't like it. "I'll tell General Marc!"

"And risk getting whacked for poking your nose where it doesn't belong?" Elgan smirked. "Ah, Florgin, best just do what I say and take me to wherever the general's been hiding your mom this whole season."

"No!" I yelled not caring who heard me as I pulled with all of my strength to get away from him. Snaky mouse must have seen the serving maid come out of the doorway behind me, because instantly he let go of his hold on me and I toppled backwards, nightshirt and all, into the poor creature, bulling her over and knocking the contents of the tray all over the floor. I dove forward in attempt to catch the tray before it rolled into the center of the room, but roll it did on its end, turning circles tighter and tighter before rocking to a halt, its pewter chimes resonating off the timbers of the vaulted room. I just grimaced at the sound and spilt wine and chipped goblets littering the floor around me. With great courage I slowly raised my eyes from the masses of footpaws and went wide-eyed at the faces of the beasts all staring at me. The room was deathly quiet as they all glared at me with astonished looks. The only creature that wasn't gaping was Captain Elgan, no he wore a smug little smile as if to say, _got ya_.

"Florgin?" General Marc said sternly breaking the silence and giving me a hard stare. "Florgin, what are you going here, lad?"

"I uh…" I stammered, forcing my burning face down to the floor. I had never felt so small in my life as all those beasts stared at me.

"Is that one of Liana's whelps?" Orleon snapped from the corner. "Marc, don't tell me you let those camp rats run wild here…"

"He's our entertainment!" Lady Aerwyna said quickly and got to her footpaws to serenely walk to me. Standing beside me, she boldly faced her husband and the rest of the contingent. "I asked Florgin to come do an act for us, and I must have forgotten the time. Good mouse that he is, he's come looking for me. Isn't that right, Florgin?"

"Uh, yes…" I replied at her wink.

"What is it- a comedy act?" General Kentin laughed out, causing the rest to start chuckling.

"I think the lad was just trying to make an entrance," the Mariner Lord piped up loudly from his seat, giving Lady Aerwyna a knowing look and smirking at me. I suppose he knew Lady Aerwyna was just trying to cover up my trespass; he did have six lads of his own after all and I can bet they had gotten into lots of trouble before. No, I can pretty much guarantee you they did, so this scene before him was not uncommon. With a casual wave, the lord added, "Good performers always find a way to capture the attention of their audience and the little mouse here's done just that!"

"In his nightshirt?" Orleon gruffed out. "Lord Lisandro, I think you are…"

"What is young Florgin to perform, my lady?" General Marc said firmly, picking up on the ploy. "What will our entertainment be this evening?"

"Oh, it's a surprise, Marc," Lady Aerwyna smiled and gave him a slight bow, before kneeling down in front of me where I was shakily trying to sort the mess.

"I'm sorry, Lady Aerwyna," I muttered as quickly as I could, my paws trembling as I cleaned up the mess of goblets and using my sleeve to wipe up the split wine. I had gotten into lots of trouble before, but I had never interrupted a feast before. Seasons, I could already feel the sting of the ladle on my bottom.

"It's alright, Florgin," she smiled warmly to me and stilled my paws. I remember looking into her eyes and like everything was going to be alright. Pulling me to my footpaws, she snapped her fingers for the serving beasts to clean up the mess and walked slowly with me into the center of the room.

"What are you going to perform for us tonight, Florgin?" Lady Aerwyna said sweetly and looked directly into my eyes. "What will you grace us with?"

I gulped. I didn't know how to do anything important. Certainly nothing worthy of great beasts and nobles.

"What is your talent, Florgin?" Lady Aerwyna pressed, giving me a firm squeeze on my paw. "The one thing you love to do more than anything?"

"I-I suppose I can sing," I whispered and scuffed my footpaws. "I can sing a tune or two."

"Will you sing for us then?" Lady Aerwyna said sweetly.

"Lady Aerwyna, really this is foolish," the prim mousemaid snipped from her seat beside the Mariner Lord. "He is just a serving beast's mishap. Kick him back to the kitchens where his cold future lies.

I just gaped at the maid. Her words were hurtful and full of scorn, but it didn't make me sad. No, my blood was boiling now, my coyness from my interruption gone as I glared at her. I saw the sharp look General Marc gave the Mariner Lord and he leaned in and whispered something to his wife that made her turn up her nose even higher and wave her paw at him. Beside me, Lady Aerwyna had gone rigid in her attempt not to counter such blatant condensation.

"I will sing," I said boldly and took a step forward. "I will sing you a song."

"That's a lad!" General Marc replied happily and held out a paw for Lady Aerwyna to join him. "Let's hear what kind of songbird my lady has found us, eh Lisandro?"

"Indeed, General Marc," the Mariner Lord nodded with a smile. "Lady Aerwyna's taste in entertainment has never failed us yet."

I stood for a moment, trying to remember the words to a song, any song that I might sing in front of them, but they all jumbled in my mind and I couldn't think of one in particular. My mouth went dry and my paws got clammy from the silence and the odd beast clearing their throat. To this day I still think I would have bolted had Captain Elgan not been standing by the exit and the fact that my paws seemed to have cemented themselves to the wooden planks. I was about to stammer out something, when my gaze settled back on the Mariner Lord's wife and a haunting melody drifted into my mind. Taking a deep breath I began to sing my song, letting the words weave through the still air and cool the room with its prophesise.

"They say I have no fortune,

It's true I have no gold.

Not single bit before me,

But future is not cold.

My mother is fine cook,

My father's brave and bold.

My brother is my best friend,

My shoul'ers can carry a load.

I may seem small and tiny,

But in time you all will tell,

Of my story by the fire,

And in books the merchants sell.

I know I have great courage,

I know my heart is strong.

My paws are very nimble,

I want to right the wrongs.

And then one day you'll see me

Proud and brave and true.

I'll stand up for a just cause,

Beside the brave and few.

And then I'll have my fortune,

And then I'll have my gold.

I'll have everything before me,

Just like you've all been told."

"Excellent, Florgin!" General Marc shouted happily from his seat and clapped for me while the other beasts cheered. "Never did a bard sing a chorus better!"

I smiled and took a little bow I had seen players make after their performances in the city center. I was just thanking the Seasons my voice had not cracked or dipped during my song. Glancing back up I saw Lady Aerwyna come forward and hold out her paw for me to take.

"I had better get our minstrel to bed," she said with a broad grin. Leading me out of the feasting hall, the lady otter was silent until we reached the steps for that would lead me back to the servants' quarters.

"What were you doing in the feasting hall, Florgin?" Lady Aerwyna asked softly. "You know you are not to disturb the general when he has guests over."

"I'm sorry, Lady Aerwyna," I whispered once we started walking up the small flight of stairs. "Please, don't tell Mom. I don't want to get a ladle whack."

"Oh, Florgin," the kind lady otter giggled. "I doubt your mother will give you a whack once I tell her of your wonderful performance. Where did you learn to sing like that, young one?"

"My Dad sings to me whenever I see him," I said quickly, suddenly missing my dad more than anything. "I also listen to the sailors down at the docks, Lady Aerwyna."

"Well, you have an extraordinary talent," Aerwyna nodded. "I'm sure she will be quite proud of you."

"No, please don't tell her," I begged. "I get in enough trouble doing things I shouldn't. I don't want Mom to be mad at me."

"She won't, Florgin…"

"No- she will!" I asserted my voice rising in my childish panic. "I wasn't supposed to be outta bed. I was supposed to be asleep. I interrupted your feast and…"

"Alright, Florgin," Aerwyna relented and held up her paws in mock defeat. "I'll make you a deal. I won't tell your mother if you promise to do something for me?"

"Anything, Lady Aerwyna," I said gratefully and relaxed my tail and bottom muscle that was already clenched in anticipation of a ladle smack.

"I won't tell your mother about your performance as long as you promise to meet with me every afternoon and sing me a song."

"That's it?" I said scrunching up my nose. "All I have to do is sing a song? No chores?"

"No, young one," she replied kindly and gave my paw a squeeze. "Just sing me a song."

* * *

So every afternoon for the week before we left Carminack I met with Lady Aerwyna in her private chambers. I never knew she loved music so much, but looking back it wasn't really the music so much as it was me being around her. And really, it wasn't so much as me, but the fact that I was a young one.

It was one of my last meetings with her that I overheard some voices as I came to her chamber door. My little paw poised ready for a knock when I heard General Marc's voice from inside.

"He's not a pup, Aerwyna," I heard General Marc say softly to her. "Florgin's a mouselet."

"I know, Marc," she replied sadly. "But I can pretend what it would have been like."

"They told me you had more new clothes made for them," Marc said plainly and instantly I looked down at the new green shirt and black vest I was wearing.

"They need more than one or two outfits, Marc," Lady Aerwyna countered. "They're lads, after all. They are going to get dirty and play."

"Isn't it enough you spend every morning at the orphanage?" the general sighed. "Aerwyna; you have to stop this and accept what it…"

"I have accepted it!" she shot back at him in a tone that made me cringe. She was such a gentle lady otter that I never imagined her voice would have such a whip to it. But I guess even the gentlest beasts can be vicious when they were protecting and that's what she was doing- protecting her heart.

"Marc, I live everyday wondering why we cannot have a pup; why the Seasons won't let us. All I've ever wanted was to have a little one in my paws and another on my hip and nothing- nothing! Every healer tells us there's nothing wrong with us. Every midwife says we're fine, but it just doesn't… Do you have any idea how hard it is for me? Look at Lady Helene- _ten_ mouselings she gave Lord Lisandro. Orianna is about to give Lord Laec his second born…"

"Both mice…"

"Lady Aedre Atwater from Constillion sent me a missive just last week to say she and Varun are having another."

"Aerwyna, there is more to life than just having babes!"

"I know there is, Marc," I heard her say with a sigh. "I tell myself that every day. Why do you think I pour myself into those poor orphans? Or spend as much time with Liana's two mouselets? I try to help the world as much as I can; as you keep them safe with the army, I give them comfort with my love. A love I had hoped would have been for our own brood, I now spread to others. Now leave me be. Florgin will be here soon and I do not wish for him to see me with tears."

I could hear footpaws walk across the floorboards and then sudden stop as they hit the plush hearth rug by the fire. He must have gone to where she always sat by the fire on a circular lounge.

"Aerwyna, you know I love you," I heard the general whisper. "I love you with all my heart."

"And I you Marc," she sniffed and I could just imagine her wiping her eyes with the tip of her kerchief. "Now, please will you go see what is taking my little companion so long?"

"As you wish, my lady," I heard him say and quickly I ran down to the end of the hall so it didn't seem as though I had been eavesdropping when he came out of the door. I was just walking back when the door creaked open and General Marc appeared looking very solemn.

"Ah, Florgin!" General Marc said forcing a smile on his face as if nothing could possibly be wrong. "Lady Aerwyna is waiting for you, mate."

"Yes, General Marc, sir," I replied and gave him a quick nod and a half smile. It was odd, you know, what happened next. Looking back on it, I suppose the weight of reality finally fell on the general's shoulders. I was told it is a humbling feeling, knowing you will be the last of your line, and recalling that moment, I would have to say that is what happened to the general. Brave and true as both he and his lady were, they would not ever produce any pups and I guess the great otter suddenly realized that he was never going to be a father.

When I tried to give him a smile, he got a strange, almost sad look in his eye and with a sigh, bent down on knee in front of me to adjust my buttons where I had misaligned them.

"Need to count your button holes, Florgin," he mumbled and fixed my shirt, pulling my vest out slightly and angling my belt like he did his. I stood there silently as he fussed over me and then ruffled my ears; even in the dim light of the hallway I could see a glassy look to his eyes.

"Now, you be a good lad for Lady Aerwyna and do as she says," he said in a soft father-like tone. "Stand-up straight and remember your manners, and I'll see you get an extra slice of cake at supper, alright mate?"

"Yes, General Marc," I replied. I didn't know how to react. The generals were never soft-paws. With a nod I went to step around him, but stopped when he spoke again.

"Florgin, I want to give you something," Marc said quietly and reached behind his back to retrieve a dirk and scabbard from his belt. Holding it flat in his paws, he looked at the simple blade as if it was made from the finest gold. Seeing he weapon, I spun on my heel and came back to him. A little voice told me something important was about to happen.

"It was my father's," Marc said softly, pressing it into my paws. "My father gave it to me when I was a pup about your age. You see the handle? It's made from ebony wood from the Isle of Rainwreath. This blade was once part of the regalia of the Rainwreath Otterguard, our most sacred order. The lineage scrolls tell me my ancestor was the last Skipper of that guard. This would have been his blade."

"It's awfully shiny," I said in awe looking at dirk now resting in my paws, the square silver pommel glinting in the low light. I could only imagine how many battles it had seen and how many teeth the pommel had knocked out.

"If it was your Dad's don't you want to give it to your son?" I continued quietly. Not daring to look into the general's eyes, I kept my gaze focused on the blade. Why I asked questions to which I already knew the answers to, I'll never know, but I supposed I just had to reassure myself what I heard was correct.

"Ah, Florgin I have wished that with all my heart," the otter said quietly and sat down on the settle in the hallway. "But you know, sometimes the Seasons have a different plan for us than the one we envision for ourselves. I would have loved to give that blade to my own pup, but I do not think the Seasons will bless Lady Aerwyna and I with one."

"Oh," I said with a blush. I don't know why I felt embarrassed.

"Just keep it safe and it will keep you safe," the general breathed and gave me a weak smile.

"I will keep it safe, General Marc," I said proudly. "I promise."

"Good," he said and stretched up. Walking slowly, down the hallway, he descended the stairs, leaving me all alone in with his most honoured possession in my little paws. I recall thinking we were all a bunch of performers, each with our own special talent that we played for the Seasons and the Fates. I had the talent to sing, Lady Aerwyna the talent to love and General Marc had the unique talent of being able to let go. Little did I know then, or General Marc for that matter, that dirk would save my life and the lives of hundreds of other creatures in the season to come.

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I know a little deeper fluffer with that part, but trust me, Florgin gets a real taste of battle in the next installment. Ratherwood hints about what will happen in the next chapter after his own first battle experience with the army... Any guesses on what it may be? **


	10. ATailofTwoBrothers:Bravery On All Fronts

**Special Thanks to Lady Storm and Saraa Luna for reviewing the last chapter. A lot of hidden inferences and builds of the next chapter in this one...**

* * *

**A Tail of Two Brothers: Part 4- Bravery On All Fronts**

_"__Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I'd have the facts."_  
-Harper Lee, _To Kill a Mockingbird_-

"Florgin, get your paws out of those scones!" Mom laughed at me and tapped my paw lightly with a large rolling pin she was using to smooth out more pastry dough. "They are for the generals!"

"Ba, we're hungry, Mom," Flintin whined at a wink from me, stepping forward and latching on to her dress skirts in a practiced manner. See, this was part of our plan; Flintin would distract her and I would get as much food as my paws could hold, then we could take off out of the kitchen pavilion and find a hiding spot amongst the various tents of the army camp to feast on our spoils. To us it was brilliant despite its simplicity and you know what, in the week that we had been at the army encampment it worked every time.

"You'll get some dinner as soon as the others have had their fill," Mom sighed. "I think that Dana has made leek and carrot stew for the rest of the legionnaires. You two always liked that before."

"Ba why can't we have some of the fish you're roasting?" Flintin asked more in earnest than in act now. Pointing to the fish Mom was preparing for the generals, he licked his lips and held his belly as it gave a loud rumble. "We always got fish at General Marc's…"

"I know, Flintin, but this isn't… wait a minute," Mom started then stopped when she notice a bowl of sliced apples was missing off the heavy wooden table. "Where did those apples go? Florgin!"

Our cover was blown. I shoved two more scones in my tunic and with the bowl of fresh cut fruit under my arm, grabbed Flintin by the paw before Mom could snatch either of us light-paws.

"Time to go, Flint!" I yelled and together we sprinted out of the tent, ducking out from under the flap and laughing merrily in our game. I could hear Mom yelling at us and trying not to laugh herself as we made our escape. Quickly, I darted in front of a group of passer-byers, but skidded to a halt on my heels when I felt Flintin's paw pull from mine and I recognized a familiar hiss.

"Flintin!" Captain Elgan growled at my brother when he bumped into captain and giggled at his mishap. I just glared at the snake-mouse.

_Flintin, get away from him_, I thought to myself and felt my free paw instinctually clench into a fist. I didn't trust Captain Elgan as far as I could spit, which didn't say a lot for him considering I was lucky if I hocked past my footpaws.

"'Orry, Cap'n Ellan!" I heard Flint laugh and trot towards me, and together we ran off to the sound of the snake-mouse yelling at us from the only side of his face that worked. But I didn't care to listen to what he was spewing out; after my incident during the feast at the Stalwallows', whatever he had to say meant nothing to me.

Finding a quiet place at the back of the armoury tent which was placed up against the tree line, Flintin and me settled down and went about munching on our snack.

"Flintin, I don't think you should talk to Captain Elgan," I mumbled to him in between bites of scone and slices of apple. "I think we should just try and stay away from him."

"I didn't mean to bump him," Flintin said quickly as if I was getting him into trouble. "I just sort of… well, bumped into him," he added with a shrug.

"I know, but I think we should just try and stay away," I reiterated. I remember him giving me the 'you're not my mother' look, but I didn't care. I had a bad feeling about Captain Elgan. I always did and General Marc always said to follow your gut instincts and for me, when my gut twisted into a ball that usually meant something bad. Well, whenever I saw the snake-mouse my stomach would roll itself so tight it could have killed a beast if you put it in a sling.

"Like how Mom tries to stay away from him?" Flintin asked as I passed him the last few pieces of apple in the bowl.

"Uhuh," I responded and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Ever since we had been back at the encampment, Mom tried to keep her distance from the one-eyed captain and any of the lip-licking mice who glanced her way for that matter. Beasts muttered that she had changed, but all she did was keep to her duties. The only difference I noticed was at night when every time I woke up she was there; not like before when we were with the army and I would wake up to Dana a pace or two away instead of Mom. Whenever that happened, the kindly hogwife would just tell me Mom went to get some water and to go back to sleep. Nope, this time whenever I opened my eyes, Mom was curled up beside Flintin and my cot, peacefully sleeping under a heavy cloak or quilt.

"Do you think he's face hurts?" Flintin questioned and chewed happily on his apple slice. "I mean it…"

"Well, if it isn't a pair of light-paws lifting some of the generals' vittles!" a voice boomed behind us. I laughed in recognition of the loud speech, and turned to see the kindly face of Earvin, one of General Marc's personal otterguards. Behind him were two other otters from the general's contingent kitted up for a patrol, each trying to hold in a smirk at the sight of us stuffing our cheeks.

"What vittles?" Flintin grinned and put the bowl behind his back as if to hide it from the otter's view.

"What vittles indeed," Earvin chuckled and then motioned for us to get to our footpaws. "Well, come on ya two. It's not safe to be stalking about the borders of camp. Ya two could get hurt."

"Nat-uh," I replied and patted the hilt of the dirk strapped to my belt. I couldn't help the broad smile that curled my lips when my paw touched the square pommel. Since getting the simple weapon, I felt like a real grown mouse having my own blade and though I really had no idea how to use it, I wore it every day as if part of a uniform. Silly as it was, I think the dirk liked it. I know, weapons don't have feelings, but wearing that dirk, made me feel like I was one of those great otters of the Wreath Guard and in that, I felt like the dirk believed it was part of its regalia again. Besides, General Marc told me to keep it safe and it would keep me safe- now how were my dirk and me supposed to do either of those things if we were apart?

"Now, young Florgin, ya may have a blade in yar belt, but ya don't have the mind to sick a beast yet," Earvin smirked and pulled Flintin to his footpaws. "Fightin' be for us older beasts, not for ya young ones."

Now, how the Seasons was he to know what was in my mind? I was brave. I had courage. I knew which end was the pointy one. I could stick a beast if I had to. Well, maybe. I could probably do it if I closed my eyes and went real fast so I didn't see any blood. I didn't like seeing blood when I was younger- made my stomach woozy, but I suppose it is an acquired taste; like dandelion tea or nettle broth.

Giving a little huff and furrowing my brow in objection to the comment, I did as I was bidden and got to my paws. As I looked around our little hideaway, I couldn't fathom how he found us so far away from the bulk of the army and concealed behind the tents. But I really shouldn't have been surprised. Earvin always seemed to find Flintin and me whenever we were too quiet and turn us away from whatever trouble we were about to get into. I used to think he just always happened to be there at the right time, but looking back, I'd be willing to double bet my next roll in Heranic that General Marc told him to tail us most of the time.

"Now don't be poutin' like a-maiden, Florgin!" Earvin laughed at my expression and flicked my ear to make me giggle. "Came to find ya to say the Flamring legionnaires are at the check in. Might have seen a beast lookin' for ya."

I squealed like a hedgelet that just had his first spike plucked. If Flamring fighters were arriving that would mean Dad would be there. Dad. Dad was… was home.

"C'mon Flintin!" I yelled and bolted off in the direction of the scribes, bobbing under the heavy ropes pegged into the ground to hold the tents up. "Dad's here!"

"Flor, wai-d up!" Flintin called behind me, but I didn't wait for him. I couldn't wait for him; my footpaws were running as fast as my mind was reeling with the events of the winter while I tried to figure out what to tell Dad first. Quickly, I made it to the knoll where the tents stopped and the legionnaire sites began. The scribes were just ahead of my at the start of the encampment, a long line of all sorts of beasts filed behind them. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Flintin was following me, but I didn't see him. He must have stayed behind with Earvin…

"Gotcha!" Flintin giggled, coming at me from my blindside and pulling my whiskers. One thing Flintin was always real good at. Sneaking. Sneaking up on me especially.

"Ouch!" I yelped and clapped my paw to my cheek and rubbed the sting out of my strained skin. Ugh. He must have pulled out ten whiskers at least. "Flintin, that hu-urt!" I gasped out and my voice spiked to a maidish timbre.

"You're sounding like a long-shirt again!" Flintin laughed and pointed at me as my face flamed scarlet. "Soon you'll be curts-in' like Lady Aerwyna 'stead o'bowin'!"

"Flintin- take that back!" I grumbled. "I can't help my voice."

"Sure ya… w-whoa!" Flintin gaped and toppled backwards over a tent line. Ah, Flintin. You never could laugh and watch where you were going at the same time.

"Ah-ha!" I laughed and poked his footpaw. "Seasons'll get you for makin' fun of me."

"Naw," Flintin giggled, rolling over and bounding to his footpaws. "Betcha can't catch me!"

With a pitchy laugh I sprinted off down the knoll after my brother, the idea of seeing my dad pushed to the back of my mind as I focused on finding the biggest dirt patch to tackle him in. Ha- was Flint about to eat mud!

It was mere moments after I made a leap at Flintin and we both rolled to the ground that I heard the familiar voice I had been waiting a season to hear.

"Florgin!"

Turning abruptly at the sound of his voice I whipped around to see a strong mouse break away from the lines, dropping his haversack and sword and striding to me with his paws open.

"Dad!" I yelled and pushed myself off Flintin, running to him and jumping into his waiting arms.

"Whoa-ho there, Florgin!" Dad chuckled as he sunk to his bottom, bringing me down with him. Guess he didn't realize how much I'd grown over the winter, or how strong I had gotten hauling the Stalwallows' fish order back from market every day. "Knockin' me off my paws already, huh?"

I just nodded. I was too excited to see him and didn't trust my voice not to go all loopy. I could handle Flintin jesting with me about sounding like a maid, but I didn't want Dad to think I was growing headfur. Dad just hummed under his breath and gave a contented sigh as he held me close, completely happy to be sitting on the grass with me in his lap.

"What have you been…" Dad started, but before he could finish, my mind regurgitated every event that occurred that winter in a sort of haphazard refuse.

"Dad, I lived in Carminack at General Marc's home!" I blurted out. "And it rained, but the sailors would sing at the docks, then I sang for Lady Aerwyna- she's General Marc's wife. But Flintin got a cold and then we were chased by the long-eared guards of the Mariner Lord; then the Mariner Lord was at the feast and his wife is a snippy thing. And then…"

"Slow down, Florgin!" Dad laughed and tapped me on the nose. "One thing at a time now."

"Florus!" a mouse named Duncan called behind us and I looked up to him waving Dad back to the line. They were getting close and he would have to sign in.

"Well, I guess I'd better go make my mark," Dad sighed and lifted me off his legs to stand in front of him. For a moment he got an odd expression on his face and focused on my wide belt and dirk. "Where'd you get those, Florgin?"

"General Marc gave them to me!" I exclaimed and pawed at the square pommel again. "They were a present."

"And a fine gift they were, too," Dad said with a smile despite the hint of sadness present in his tone. "Took good care of you this winter, didn't he?"

"Uhuh," I said and jumped back into his paws to hug him again. "I missed you though, Da-ad."

Fates-be-damned. Blasted voice.

"Ah, my little lad is growing up," Dad chuckled at my inflected speech and gave me another squeeze. "How I missed my little Florgin."

We held each other for another moment or two then Dad pulled back to glance over his shoulder at the moving line.

"Time I got back in line, son," he said with a smirk and gave my chin a playful jab with his paw. "I'll sign in and then…"

"I'll stay with you!" I said and clasped his paw when he got to leave so I could walk with him.

"I've got a better idea," Dad said, kneeling before me and flattening the fabric of my tunic over my widening shoulders. "How about I sign in and get settled, then meet you and Flintin over by the kitchen tents? I've got a surprise for you two."

"A surprise?" I asked excitedly. "What kind of surprise?"

"I've got a present for my lad too," Dad said with a grin. "It may not be as fancy as the spoils General Marc gave you, but I've got something for you all the same."

"Yeah!" A shouted and laughed merrily. I was going to get a present! I recall looking at him and thinking he was the greatest mouse in the world and I hadn't even seen the gift yet.

"Now, off with you and Flintin, or I'll make you wait for it!" Dad jested and motioned for me to go back to my brother. "Go on. I'll meet you by the tents."

"And Mom too?" I asked innocently. "Dad, can Mom come too?"

He didn't say anything, but got a warm look to his eyes at her mention and his smile softened. "Of course, Florgin."

Spinning on my heel, I bolted back to Flintin, giggling and smiling the whole way.

"C'mon, Flint!" I said when I reached him. "Dad has a present for us- we have to go back to the tents and wait for him."

"You mean a present for you," Flintin sighed. "Why would he get me anything?"

"He said it was both of us," I smirked with pride at the fact my dad would include my brother. Flintin's dad never gave him anything and would certainly never give a second thought to me. "C'mon- let's go get changed into our jerkins and show him how we can look like mups!"

"Okay!" Flintin sniggered and followed me through the rows of pavilions towards the kitchen tents. I recall us jabbering nonsense as we walked, but what I really remember is rounding the bend and watching him slither out from under the flap.

In unison, Flintin and me both skidded to a stop and stared at the snake-mouse as he sauntered towards us.

"Back from playing so soon, lads?" Captain Elgan snickered at us and continued adjusting his belt. "Best keep out of your mother's headfur a mite longer."

I just glared at him and took a defensive step in front of my brother. All that was going through my mind was _pointy end goes first_. I hadn't even realized I had my paw on my dirk handle.

Seeing my stance, the captain laughed and narrowed his one eye.

"You can try it camp rat, but it will be the last thing you do," Captain Elgan sneered then eyed me mockingly. "I don't know why she cares for him so much, but I hope she never stops."

I had no idea what he meant by that last comment, but it was all I could do to not growl at him.

"Flor?" Flintin whispered as we watched the snake-mouse slink back towards the legionnaire sites. "Flor, why…"

"Let's go, Flintin," I said sternly and pulled my brother by the paw to the kitchen tent and together we slipped under the flap.

Instantly the smell of burning fish filled my nostrils and I snorted the scent out as I looked about the confines. The fish on the spit of the fire hadn't been turned and the belly of the trout was blackening. A few earthen bowls were cracked on the floor and a constant dripping sound echoed against the canvas sides as it dribbled from the upset water pitcher on the table that had been swiped clean.

"Mom?" I said softly, still scanning the area for where she could be. "Mom?"

"Mom?" Flintin picked up the call and went to turn the spit to the other side.

"Mom!" I said a little louder and walked around the short screen that acted as a partition between the kitchen and the sleeping area we share with Dana and two other kitchenmaids. I held my breath as I looked around it, but I really should have just closed my eyes.

I heard Mom before I saw her, curled up in the corner, breathing heavily and trying to pull her new green dress skirt Lady Aerwyna had bought her just before we left down over her footpaws; but no matter how hard she tried, the fabric kept falling away once she let go of it. It was after all slit up to her waist hem.

I could feel Flintin brush my shoulder and I heard him gasp, but it was like he wasn't there when Mom gave us a startled glance and I saw the wild look in her eyes and the swelling to her right eye. Immediately she tried to pull her headfur over the side of her face, but cried out in pain and held her right paw to her chest.

"Mom!" I cried and Flintin and me both ran to her, kneeling before her and just staring. We didn't know what to do or what happened, but we did know this wasn't right. As I reached onto our cot to get the quilt I felt something cold on my paw and when I looked down I saw what looked like a pawful of copper coins with a few silver bits mixed together. Where in the Seasons had Mom gotten coins from?

"Mom?" Flintin almost whimpered at the sight of her and he tried to snuggle up to her, but she drew a short intake of breath and let her left paw go to her side. With her motion, her skirts fell open again and she gave a little gasp.

"Here, Mom," I said quietly and put the quilt on her lap to cover her legs. I was just over nine seasons old, but I knew even back then it wasn't proper for a maid to even show her ankles let alone a bit of leg. Standing back up I just looked at her, trying to piece it all together. Deep down I think I knew; Elgan adjusting his belt, the cleared off table and the coins, but I wasn't ready to admit it. My mom was the bestest mom in the whole of Southsward- there was no way she was one of… those maids.

"Flor, we need to go get help!" Flintin whispered urgently to me and tugged on my tunic. "We need to go get General Marc…"

"We won't be able to get within a league of the generals' pavilion this close to battle," I muttered and watched as Mom let out a shiver. I opened my mouth to speak again when I heard a pair of footpaws scuff the mat at the entrance to the tent and Dad's happy voice as he called for us.

"Lads!" he said and you could hear the smile fall from his face at the sight of the kitchen. "LIANA!"

"Mister Florus!" Flintin yelled and ran to the screen. "Mister Florus- Mom is hurt real bad."

"What do you mean…" Dad pressed and I heard him come round the screen and draw a short intake of air. It wasn't until I turned my head to him that I become conscious of the tears I had on my cheeks.

"Liana?" Dad said quickly and dropped the small linen bag he was carrying to go to her. I watched as he knelt done beside her, gently moving her headfur from her swollen eye and clenching his jaw tight at the sight of her. Rocking back on his heels, Dad looked at the coins on the cot and with a sigh, looked up at Flintin and me. He knew and now he knew we knew. And now we knew he knew we knew. We all knew.

He should have been with his legion, Dad stayed with us the rest of the day. First he looked after Mom, binding her paw and helping her change her dress before nestling her into Flintin and my cot with a cup of hot tea. Once Mom was looked after, Dad rolled up his sleeves and rallied Flintin and me to his side, and together the three of us prepared the rest of the generals' meal. We had a grand time helping him and laughing when he blew tufts of flour clouds at us. By the time Dana came to collect the surprisingly decent meal we made, all of us were settled back by the cots playing with the new jack set Dad had bought for us with the coins he had saved over the winter. The kindly hogmaid just smiled as Flintin and me played merrily with Mom watching quietly from her perch on Dad's lap as he held her close.

After what seemed an endless streak of Flintin victories, Dad clapped his paws and ordered us to go wash our faces in the wash tub and change into our nightshirts. Flintin and me did as we were told, both of us relishing in the fact that a… dad was telling us what to do for a change. I remember thinking this is what it must have felt like to have a whole family and a home. Even now, my paws still tingle and pulse at the whole feeling I felt that night when Dad tucked both Flintin and me under a cloak beside Mom, ordering us to stop giggling and close our eyes. I recall him singing us a soft lullaby and kissing us on our heads when he thought we were asleep before I breathed a sigh of relief and let my mind wander into my dreams.

Later that night I woke to the light snores of the rest of the kitchenpaws as they slept in their cots. Moving slightly I realized Flintin and me were back on our own cot where Mom had been, but she or Dad I couldn't see anywhere. With panic starting to rise in my throat I was about to start yelling for her, when I heard muffled voices and saw the shadows of two mice cast upon the screen from the light from the fire pit in the kitchen area. Rolling off the cot, I scurried over to the edge to peer around the corner.

"Liana, I don't want you to do this to yourself anymore," I heard Dad whisper to her as they sat beside the freshly stirred fire, Mom cuddled into his lap. "I want you to stop this; just tell all of them no more."

"Florus, I have to," Mom replied painfully. "You don't understand."

"What is there to understand? Liana, Florgin and Flintin are old enough to realize what goes on with you. Do you really think the lads should know that?"

"What would you have me do, Florus?" Mom said with a sigh. "I have to feed and clothe them somehow. As it was, General Marc and his wife bought them clothes over the winter…"

"But this?" Dad pressed. "And with… with him?"

"If it's what I have to do to keep my family safe, then yes," Mom sniffed and nuzzled into Dad's shoulder. "It's only my body…"

"That he's mangling!" Dad growled. "Liana, by you… how is this keeping your family safe?"

"You're still here aren't you?" Mom croaked out and wrapped her uninjured paw around Dad's body to hug him tight.

"What do you mean by that, Liana?"

"Nothing," Mom replied and sighed as if remembering an important fact. There was a silence between them for a time and then Dad shifted her slightly so she could look into his eyes.

"I missed you, Liana," Dad said softly. "I missed Florgin and even little Flintin."

"They missed you as well," Mom smiled weakly. "Maybe you could visit Carminack next leave?"

"You're going back with the general then?"

"Lady Aerwyna has asked we come back," Mom stated plainly. "Both Florgin and Flintin liked it there and I have no other place to go…"

"Liana, come home with me," I heard Dad say softly. "You, Florgin and Flintin. Let us be a family."

"Florus- I-I… but what about…" Mom stammered. Even in the dim firelight I could see the stunned look on her face. "What about… _her_?"

I didn't know yet who _her _was or why when Dad just shook his head, Mom let out a croaked sob and threw her arms around his neck to hold him tight. But none of that matter. Crawling back to our cot, I slipped back under the quilt beside Flintin with a large smile on my face. We were going to be a whole family and at the end of the march, my Dad was going to take us home.

* * *

_**IF YOU READ IT PLEASE REVIEW**__**IT!**_


	11. A Tail of Two Brothers: The Unsung Hero

**Special thanks to Saraa Luna and Lady Storm for the review of the last chapter.**

**So ya, I have a final exam I haven't studied for yet in 3 hours so naturally- you guys get another chapter! (Why does the inspiration for me to write strike when I ****_shouldn't_**** be writing?)**

* * *

**A Tail of Two Brothers: PART 5- The Unsung Hero**

_"__Courage is found in unlikely places."_

-J.R.R. Tolkien-

"One!"

After all these years I still draw a short breath whenever I hear a beast start to count.

"Two!"

The second of anything always hurts the most. The first you don't expect, the third your body starts to numb. No, the second hurts the must because you've just had time to register pain as the second blow catches you.

"Three!"

That's when the gasps start. When creatures let go of the breaths they are holding and mutter curses, call for mercy, yell for you to stay strong.

"Four!"

That's when you feel the blood start to run and you realize you're sweating in a mixture of fear and pain.

"Five!"

You're teeth start to hurt at the fifth count from your clenching jaw, but you don't dare relax your muscles; if you do that means your mouth can open and if your mouth can open, you can cry out. You never unclench your jaw.

"Six!"

By now your paws are screaming from the grasp you have on whatever you are holding onto and the splinters for the wood post seem to spike themselves beneath your claws causing you to hold on tighter and embrace the new form of pain to take your mind briefly off the next.

"Seven!"

You get a break here. Some switch paws or pause to growl the protesters back, but all the same, you get a chance to breath.

"Eight!"

This hurts almost as much as the second because you breathed. It you don't breathe, your body starts to go unconscious from lack of oxygen. If you're unconscious, you can't feel the pain. So don't breathe.

"Nine!"

Here's where you'll make the mistake and open your eyes. You'll open your eyes and realize this is not a nightmare and this is truly happening. Don't open your eyes.

"Ten!"

By now you are shaking and your knees are knocking. Every fibre of your being is screaming in excruciating pain and tears of betrayal sting your eyes as they brim your lids. You can breathe now, but you don't. You can speak now, but you don't unclench your jaw. You can let go now, but you still clutch the pole with all your might and let kind voices fall on deaf ears. You can close your eyes again and try to forget the world, but you don't for if this is reality, who wants to chance a dream that may turn to nightmare?

* * *

I remember waking up that morning thinking something was going to be different. I just had that feeling; you know- the one that flutters your stomach and twitches your nose. A wise beast would have just pulled the covers back up over their head and hide from the day, but I never claimed to have that kind of quality. No, on a day like that with an unknown feeling tingling my paws I tossed aside the blanket, shook Flintin awake and jumped onto the floor of the kitchen tent, anxious for the day to begin.

Mom was already up and preparing the generals' morning meal while Flintin and me sat underneath the large oak table playing with our jack set- out of the way, but exactly where Mom could find us quickly. She promised us she would take us to the infirmary tent that morning after breakfast to visit our dads and I could tell by her hurried chops with the knife and tapping footpaw that she was just as anxious to get there as we were. I knew she wanted to see Dad too.

See, Dad was injured in the battle that happened two days after Mom's encounter with Captain Elgan. We were told he was lucky to be alive seeing as he was in the process of being taken captive when one of the newbies from Carminack decided to play the hero and dash off after him. Or so said my Dad's friend, Duncan, when he came to tell Mom Dad was in the infirmary tent, but not to worry- he'd be out soon.

"Oh, they're in a mood t'day, Liana!" Dana prattled as she came inside the kitchen tent. "General Orleon be growlin' like a badger this morning!"

Flintin and me giggled. Silly spike-back. Orleon was a badger!

"He has no cause for it," Mom grumbled and punched her paw into the bread dough. "They won the battle."

"But they didn't kill the fox," Dana put in as she organized the prepared food on the tray. "As it is Generals Varun and Urlen will be leading another group out after midday to try and flush them out."

"It's about time the Constillians did something," Mom sighed and covered the dough with a towel to let it rise. "It's not fair General Marc leads every charge."

"Well, he's staying behind from this one," Dana replied and dropped her voice. "I saw a missive come from Carminack for the general. Had a black ribbon tied around it. Messenger was a real solemn looking creature too."

"Do you know what it was?" Mom pressed and Flintin and me instantly stopped what we were doing and strained our ears.

"No, but whatever it was, was serious," Dana shrugged. "A black ribbon usually means a death."

"Seasons forbid it was any beast dear to him," Mom whispered. I knew what she was thinking. I was thinking the same thing. What if it had been from Lady Aerwyna to say a servant we knew died, or worse; what if it had of been Lady Aerwyna that was dead? I recall starting to ponder maybe that was what my icky feeling was about, but stopped when Dana spoke up again.

"Still taking the lads to see their father?" Dana said lightly and tried to change the subject. Looking underneath the table she smiled and shook her head at us. I don't know why she always did that, but I guess it was more out of endearment than humour.

"Yes," Mom responded with a quiver of excitement in her tone. "We are going to go visit Florus and then Flintin can have a quick visit with Larkin."

"Well then you'd better get going, Liana," Dana said and motioned for us to climb out from under the table. "Best get going before more beasts come back needing attention. Lads be a little young yet to see fresh spoils of war!"

* * *

"There're my lads!" Dad exclaimed as Mom brought us in the infirmary tent and a bumpkin of a squirrel with a healers' overcoat on pointed out his cot. Immediately, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, grimacing when he moved his heavily bandaged leg. Other than the one bandage, Dad didn't look any worse for wear, not like some of the other beasts that lay with bandages over their eyes of arms. At least there was no blood so I didn't need to worry about my stomach doing flips; all I had to do was concentrate on my loopy voice.

Both Flintin and me giggled happily when Dad waved us over and patted the cot next to him. Without a hesitation we jumped up beside him and began to prattle about the battle. Mom tried to sway our conversation to more pleasant things, but always Flintin and me turned it back around to war and weapons and male stuff.

"I guess I'm always going to have to listen this talk," Mom smirked at the three of us from her place on the stool beside the cot. "Three to one is hardly fair odds to be arguing against."

"Well, maybe when we get home you and I can see about evening the odds for you," Dad chuckled to her under his breath and kissed Mom on the cheek. "It's about time these two had a sister, don't you think?"

Mom just smiled and blushed, nodding and nuzzling her face to Dad's. I remember thinking how happy Mom was and Dad too, and me and Flintin. I couldn't wait to get to our new home. We couldn't wait to get to our new home. All morning Dad told us about Flamring and all the creatures that lived there. He even told us about my grandparents. Ha! Betcha didn't know I had grandparents! Two of them. And aunts. I had four of them. And cousins. I had ten of those.

By midday, we heard the drums beating and Flintin and me stuck our heads out of the tent to watch as the legions marched by. We had a marched on the spot as we watched them, our tails swaying back and forth and the fighters inside laughing at us and jesting with Dad about us being next to sign up. No beast ever mentioned about Flintin being Larkin's; they now just referred to him as Dad's. Ever since Mom's run-in with Captain Elgan, Dad had made it very clear to every mouse that she was his now, spending as much time with her as possible and walking with her whenever she needed to go somewhere outside the kitchen tent. If a mouse so much as looked at her or clink a coin, Dad would take a challenging step towards them and they would all tuck their tails in the other direction.

Once the legion was gone, we laughed and started to play fight as if in a battle- Mom calling for us to stop and just behave, while Dad encouraged it and shouted out pointers. By his fourth instruction, I was laughing so hard that I lost sense of my strength and shoved Flintin a little too hard into the leg of a table set up with healing supplies. Three nearby healers gasped and pounced on the rocking board to steady it before giving us a warning glare.

"Not the healing supplies, mouseys," the one said with a wagging paw. "These be worth more than your hides and if General Orleon heard of you two wasting these- he'll flail you to the bone he will!"

"Come on you two," Mom said softly and led us back to Dad's cot. "It's time to say goodbye. We need to get back to the kitchens…"

I remember protesting and Flintin whining, Dad laughing and Mom trying to reason with the three of us to no avail. But you know it was odd. Over all the hubbub of our banter and the regular noises of the infirmary tent, my ear twitched at a sound. Or rather, lack thereof.

"Why did the drums stop?" I asked innocently. At my comment, Dad fell silent and sat up a little straighter, straining his ears to try and hear something- anything. The whole tent must have heard me because every beast was silent. All listening, all waiting. It was an eerie silence. Inside, my belly was doing backflips and my whiskers stood straight out. A weird sensation tickled my spine and caused me to shiver and my footpaws went all cold and heavy. I remember looking at Flintin who was looking at the worried faces of every beast and shivering like I had just done. Looking at Mom I noticed her face had paled and her paws had gone cold in ours. I remember the breeze blowing through the tent and a funny scent reached my nostrils. The smell that every beast knows instantly even if they had never caught a whiff of it before: Fear.

"Liana, get the lads to the legions," Dad said quickly. "Any legion. And get behind it."

"Florus, what's happening?" Mom whispered and tightened her grip on our paws. "Aren't the drums just out of hearing range?"

"You can hear those drums for miles, Liana," Dad said pointedly and swung his leg over the side of the cot and grimaced as he tried to stand. "They didn't march that fast."

Mom had only taken us a step when we heard the horns. A lot of horns. Loud horns. Close horns.

"Fate's fire!" Dad cursed and limped sorely forward on his leg. "Liana- run!"

We heard the screams then. Screams and cries. Pleas for help and merciless yells. Snarls, growls, and gargled death gasps. And laughter. Always a wicked laughter.

I could beasts shouting commands. I even heard the thunderous sounds of footpaws from some sort of charge, but when Mom ran with Flintin and me to the tent flap, I wished that to hear was all I could do.

In front of us a squirrel was run through. To the left a stoat lost his arm. On our right a healing maid lay motionless with a spear through her belly and an arrow in her eye. I could see creatures fighting, but it was all a blur. A mass of bloodied coats and flashes of steel.

I must have screamed because my throat was hoarse as Mom pulled us back and shoved Flintin and me behind her. Without thinking I pulled Flintin down and knelt over top of him to protect him while Dad hobbled over to Mom.

"Florus- they're attacking the camp!" Mom exclaimed and grasped his paws. "Florus…"

"Stay in the corner and don't move!" Dad commanded her and he picked up a knife from the supply table. "Liana…"

But before Dad could finish, cries sounded from the other end of the tent and I looked up to see a pair of rats appear and work their way down the row of injured beasts, stabbing them as they went. Paws went up in the air in feeble protest and mercy begged to the sky, but onwards they went, stabbing, killing.

Everything that happened next past my eyes in slow motion. Dad half ran, half skipped to his friends' aid. I remember watching him fight with some of the other less injured males and being in awe at how he knew what to do and how to dodge the cutlass thrusts. Mom tried to step in front of us to block our view of the carnage, but that only lasted a moment before he ducked into the tent to attack from behind.

He was a big fox, with muddy coloured fur and yellow teeth that he barred when he chuckled wickedly at the scene. He hesitated for only a second and then advanced on Dad and the others, a rapier in both paws. He was going to get the drop on them from their flank.

"No!" I shouted with excruciating gradualness and rose up to rush at him, my little paw on my dirk handle, but she pulled me back. No, she threw me back and I collided with Flintin and we rolled head over tail backwards. When I next looked up, Mom was running towards the fox with a broken spear butt in her paw. With my next blink I saw her whack him as hard as she could across the back of the legs and I could hear him yell through my muffled ears. Dad and the others turned at that sound and I saw him yell- I saw his mouth move that is. I couldn't hear anymore. I could only hear my blood pumping. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

The fox wheeled on Mom and raised his rapiers. I didn't hear her scream. All I heard was a sickening sound of steel sucking into flesh and the escape of air through a pierced lung. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I couldn't blink. I couldn't fight the image away of the blade tip through Mom's back. I saw Dad try to get to her as the fox kicked her body off his blade, but when he turned the rat he was fighting kicked his injured leg and Dad tipped forward with a howl. I heard that noise. But maybe I heard it because I was yelling now too. And so was Flintin. We were all yelling. Suddenly noise came back to my ears.

"MOM!" Flintin screamed beside me and tried to crawl to her, but I pulled him back by the tail and away from danger. I had to protect my brother.

I saw the fox start to advance on Dad when he struggled back to his footpaws. I knew that Dad was going to fight him, but what could one mouse with a small knife do against a fox with two rapiers? Then I heard him. Outside, I heard the loud voice of General Marc.

"Drive them back!" he shouted. "Hold the line and push them back. Earvin, sound the drums, pick up the march!"

I knew he wouldn't hear me if I yelled. I knew I couldn't leave Flintin to run to him. Besides, he wouldn't see me anyways small as I was. But he would see the fox.

Pulling a large shield from the corner, I snatched Flintin by the collar and dragged him under it.

"Get under there, Flint," I said quickly, my mind reeling with my next moves. "Get under there and stay there until me or Dad gets you, alright?"

"Ba where're you going?" Flintin gaped at me as I pushed him into his hiding place.

"Just stay there!" I yelled and sprinted off to the supply table and grabbed an armful of liquids and salves before running at the fox.

The first bottle I hucked at him caught him in the back of the head. It made him stop and glance over his shoulder, giving me a clear shot at his snout.

That one must have hurt because he snarled at me and turned to face me. My jaw all but hit the ground.

I said he was a large fox and he was. Seeing him face to face now, I noticed the yellow stripes of war paint and black dots on his brow. He held a rapier in each paw and had an entire belt of knives. A smarter beast would have run, but not me. Sure I had to run, but I had to get him to follow me. I had to protect my family, just as Dad had told me to do all those seasons ago when Flintin was born. I was a big brother and now it was my turn to be brave. To show the courage I knew I had. Somewhere.

The fox took a step at me and hurled a jar of powder at his chest and watched it explode into a cloud of dust, making him sputter and cough.

"I git ye fur tat!" he growled and whipped at the dust in the air with his rapier. "Stu'id liddle mouse!"

"Bah- you can't get me, mange-fur!" I yelled and threw another bottle. "Mindless vermin rot-tail!"

Step. Throw. Curse. Step. Throw. Curse. That was my tactic and it worked. Slowly, I got him to follow me towards the tent entrance where I threw my last jar and missed.

"Ha! Miss'd mouse!" the fox howled and jumped over a chair I overturned and strode towards me. "Won'er if t'ey takes liddle mice at 'he Dark Forest…"

"Nope!" I shouted and twisted under the flap. "But they take a snot-nose rutter like you at Hellsgates!"

By his angered roar I knew he was following me and I had to move quickly. Surprisingly, the sight of battle didn't bother me this time as I dodged and weaved between beasts trying to find a hero.

"General Marc!" I shouted as loud as I could, all the while moving to stay a spear length ahead of the fox on my tail. "General Marc!"

"Florgin!" the loud voice of Earvin sounded just in front of me, his face full of concern. "Florgin!"

"Earvin!" I yelled and relief flooded my senses. If Earvin was there- General Marc was near. "Earvin- the fox!"

The otter leaped into action and pushed me out of the way as my stalker took a swing at me. Again everything proceeded in slow motion as I watched Earvin fight the beast. The otter seemed to be holding his own, but then I heard it again. That fleshy sucking sound and I watched Earvin slide to his knees in front of me. There was a brief moment of ponder on the fox's part and then my world sped up again with the slice of the rapier atop the otter's shoulders.

"No!" I screamed as Earvin's body fell to the side. Guilt and fear flooded my senses and I couldn't control my footpaws as I stumbled backwards away from the again advancing fox. I fell over a fallen beast and had just enough time to grab a discarded wooden shield when his first rapier strike landed on the makeshift buffer.

I think I closed my eyes. I can't remember. I just remember feeling afraid and then hearing that voice.

"Hold on, Florgin!" General Marc shouted. "Hold on, Florgin! Hold on!"

I heard footpaws running and the clash of metal close to my shield where the General's cutlass blocked the rapier and flipped it up and away. I heard the general's snarls and the fox's growls as they fought; the sound of metal upon metal ringing in my ears.

Pushing the shield from me, I watched the great otter battle the vermin, each of them inflicting grievous wounds as they engaged each other. All around the battle seemed to slow and beasts focused on their leaders, dancing amongst the fallen bodies in a deadly cavalcade. I remember my fear leaving as I watched them and my courage rise from deep in my belly to my chest. They say bravery inspires bravery and they are right. Whoever 'they' are must have watched a fighter as true as General Marc before for as I gazed on at the combat, I wanted to fight too. Then a new feeling I had never felt before entered my heart and weaved into the thoughts of my mind. I wanted the fox dead. Not just because he was vermin and the enemy. No I wanted him dead because what he had done. I wanted revenge for something that still at that moment, my mind had not registered.

The fox was losing and he knew it. His steps were weaker and his movements slower. He was relying on sheer skill now to keep him from the relentless assaults of the general's blade. Making a desperate move, the fox spun away, slicing General Marc deep across the back of his legs and stuck out at the beasts to my left to make an escape route. It was here I saw my chance.

Without a thought I leapt forward, pulling my dirk from its scabbard and I drove it as hard as I could through the fox's footpaw and deep into the dirt to anchor him to the ground. He tried to lift his paw, but I had my whole body pressing on the hilt to keep the blade in place. I may not have been big enough to gut the fox myself, but I was sure brave enough to make it so some other beast could.

I didn't dare look up when I heard the gargled screech and the sound of the general's cutlass cutting through flesh and bone. I just had time to raise my paws to my ears to guard against the sickening noise when something fell on my back and roll off my shoulder before I heard the fox's body collapse beside me. Fearfully, I opened my eyes to stare into the unblinking eyes of the vermin's painted head.

I quickly scrambled backwards, panic making my movements frantic and almost useless. I couldn't get up to my footpaws, I could only scurry away in fear that those dead eyes were doing to follow me. I heard the cheers for General Marc and the sound of a pike piercing bone as the fox's head was held aloft so all could see. I heard the call to chase and the stampeding footpaws as the vermin fled from the battle, but I didn't dare look up. I couldn't even if I wanted too. I was shaking too much, my body completely out of my control, as I tried to swallow the large lumps of hysterics in my throat. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I knew I couldn't breathe. Each time I took a gasp of air it could reach my lungs for my throat and I stopped my retreat and started grasping at my neck, clawing my fur to try and let the air into my lungs. My paws shook more and I felt like I was dying. I felt my body start to flail around like a fish out of water and a croaked gasp escaped from my mouth. It was then I heard a stern voice and saw a pair of blood-covered paws pull me into a strong embrace.

"Easy, laddie," the voice said and held me in his strong arms as I panted in my fear. "Deep breaths now. That's a lad. It's alright. It's over."

I didn't know who it was, but I curled my head into his shoulder and hid my face in his rich tunic. I was still shaking as he held me, but in his grasp I was able to relax a little. I wasn't on my own. Some beast was there to protect me. Those eyes wouldn't follow me into those strong arms and if they did, those arms would fight them away.

"That's it, Flintin," the voice said encouraged me as my breathing started to regulate. "Relax now, you're safe."

"I-I-I'm F-f-f-lorg-g-in," I stammered out between my chattering teeth and looked up into the kind eyes of a mouse I recognized as one of the newbies that came in from Carminack. This one was the one of the Mariner Lord's sons, but I didn't remember his name. I just remembered Dad telling Mom he was a good fighter and… my mouth went dry and instantly I stopped shaking, my eyes widening and my bottom lip quivered as a cold chill trickled down my spine. Flintin, Dad… Mom.

"Alright, Florgin," the mouse said firmly. "Now, where's your brother and mom, eh?"

"In the infirmary tent," I mumbled and tried to stand up, but my footpaws betrayed me and I feel back into the mouse's paws again. "W-we were visiting m-my dad."

"Rath!" the mouse yelled and waved a dark furred mouse over. "Rath, isn't this Florus' laddie?"

The dark furred mouse nodded and let his axe head fall downwards into the soft ground so he could lean on the handle.

"Aye, that's little Florgin," he said plainly as he watched my shaking form. "Why are you out here, lad?"

"H-had to stop the f-fox," I stuttered. "G-got h-him to c-c-chase me out of t-the tent."

"Brave lad," my holder complimented me and gave me another squeeze. "Little mouse is a hero."

A hero. I didn't think I was a hero. Heroes didn't shake and sputter nonsense and claw at their throats because they couldn't breathe. No heroes were more like General Marc and Dad. Beasts that rushed into danger to save others without thinking. I wasn't a hero. I just threw some jars and ran for help.

Slowly I looked back to the scene where General Marc was being helped onto a stretcher and healers were quickly treating his wounds. He was in pain as was evident in his many coughs and groans, but still he called for me.

"Florgin!" he yelled and turned his head to me. With a weakened paw he crooked his claw and beckoned me to him. The two newbies helped me to my footpaws and walked with me to the injured general. I remember seeing blood, but not feeling woozy. Guess I had just gotten used to it.

"You're not hurt?" the general asked and looked me over. "My little mup's not hurt?"

"No, General," I said plainly. He'd never called me by that nickname before.

"Good," the otter sighed and let a weak smile cross his lips. "Then I kept my word to her. I was able to give her something in the end."

I didn't know what he meant until word got out finally that Lady Aerwyna…

"Your dirk, General," Captain Wenlo said plainly and held out the handle for the otter to take. He must have retrieved it from the fox's footpaw.

"That blade belongs to little Florgin here," General Marc said proudly and motioned for me to take back my weapon. The otter grimaced as a healer tied a bandage tight and added, "Florgin run along to your mother. She must be sick with worry for you…"

"M-m-my Mo-mom," I stammered out the vision of her taking the cutlass through her stomach striking my mind's eye over and over again.

"Where's your Mom, lad?" the voice of the strong mouse asked behind me, hearing the distress in my voice and the wild look that flashed my eyes.

I didn't answer; I just broke free from the legionnaire's grasp and ran to the infirmary tent.

Slipping under the tent I saw them. Dad was cradling her body in his arms and Flintin leaning on her chest, trying to wrap her limp paw around him to comfort him. Instantly all the warmth left my body and I was left feeling hollow and cold. All the feeling of love and laughter was gone, floating away on the breeze with our dreams of family and a new start to a new life. And my mom, the bestest mom in all of Southsward, was floating away too.

* * *

I was dragged by my tail to the end of the pavilions by the rotten stripedog himself. I had just knelt down beside my brother and let the tears roll down my cheek when General Orleon came in to inspect the state of the infirmary tent. Seeing he jars of smashed salves and split tinctures he became angry. Then when he found out I had done it, wasted the army valuable supplies, he became furious. Then when a beast dared to call me a hero- that was enough for him.

The last mouse to be called a hero was dangerous. The Commander had entered the ranks of the Southern Armies like a hailstorm and challenged the generals at every turn, twisting the army away from their grasp and bending it to his will. He won many victories and collapsed the Clap around the vermin, causing the balance of power to shift. Looking back I suppose General Orleon as just trying to stop that before it begun. Suppose I should have just clued him in I didn't think I was a hero. But then what was that going to do? He wasn't going to listen to me anyways.

"Ten lashes for your insolence, camp rat," the general sneered and chucked me at the tent pole.

"My what?" I stammered out. I didn't even know what the word meant and yet I was getting whipped for it.

"Orleon, you can't do this!" General Marc shouted loudly, not caring who heard him and pushing away the healing beasts that were trying to tend to his wounds. "Orleon, he's just a lad!"

"He's old enough to know better than to waste healing supplies. He and his brother have had this lash coming for seasons now…"

"For what- saving lives?" the otter challenged and stepped in front of me. "Orleon…"

"Marc, you're only playing his saviour because you couldn't save Aerwyna," the badger growled. "Now get out of my way!"

"Aerwyna's death has nothing to do with this!" General Marc exclaimed and became arguing with the badger. I just stood and watched, hoping General Marc could save me again.

"I'll take the strikes for him," General Marc said and started slipping out of his jerkin. "If you need to take your anger out on a beast so badly Orleon, you can do it on me."

"No!" I shouted and stepped forward. Already too many creatures had gotten killed and hurt protecting me. I could let that happen again. "It's my punishment. I can take it myself."

"No, Florgin…"

"Yes!" I said bravely and undid my belt to slip my tunic over my head. After I unbuttoned my shirt to expose my back, I clasp onto the pole and clenched my jaw. Before me I saw Dad limp out of the infirmary tent with Flintin in his paws and give me an astonished look. A beast whispered something in his ear and he hopped over to me, as the first lash cracked against my skin.

"One!"

* * *

**Only one more part of Florgin's Tale left to go!**

**IF YOU READ IT PLEASE REVIEW IT! **


	12. A Tail of Two Brothers- Part 6: Reality

**A Tail of Two Brothers: Part 6- Reality**

_"__It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things."  
_-Leonardo da Vinci-

* * *

"I'm coming with you."

I was only ten seasons old when I spoke those words. Still I remember standing in the doorway to my father's room watching him pack his chainmail and spare shirts in his haversack, my expression grim and paws crossed over my widening chest. Three times I had to repeat the phrase before he looked at me and gave me the 'don't start this now' look. But I was. I was starting it now. And I was serious. I was going with him.

"Florgin, don't be ridiculous," Dad sighed and took his sword from the corner to check the sharpness of the blade against his paw. "You're staying here in Flamring with your brother. Your Gramma and Poppa will look after the pair of you while I'm gone. Just try and make sure there's still half a roof left on the cottage for when I get back, alright?"

"Tell Flintin, because I'm going with you."

"No."

"Yes."

"Florgin…"

"Dad…"

"Stop…"

"No."

"Yes."

That went on for an hour.

"Florgin, you are not coming with me to battle, son," Dad said, struggling to hold his composure. "You are not going anywhere near that bloody army again- is that understood?"

"Nope."

Guess I should explain a few things here.

First, after Mom was killed, Dad brought both Flintin and me back to Flamring. We made our home in his cottage and though creatures sometimes gave us funny looks, they grew used to us being around. It took us almost a season to get over Mom's death; for us to start being _normal_ again, but eventually we did and both of us made friends with the other young ones of the village, spending most our days playing in the warm sunshine and forest meadows. Our life was peaceful and secure and yet more forced and empty than I had ever felt it before. No matter how Dad tried (and Seasons knows he tried!) Flamring never felt like home to us. He made us our favourite foods, took us fishing, taught us how to swordfight using sticks and told us stories every night; but whatever he did, it didn't matter because he wasn't Mom.

Second, Dad was determined I wasn't going to end up a fighter like him. He wanted me to go into trade so I would never have to relive the nightmares I still had constantly about killing and maiming and unblinking eyes that chased me through the corridors of my sleep. Almost every night I woke up screaming and Dad would run to my side and hug my fears away. So, he organized for me to learn how to be a brewer. I know right- me a brewer! Ha! Oh Dad, what did you start?

And third. Well, there wasn't really a third. Yet. We're getting to that…

"Yes, you are," Dad said sternly. "Florgin, don't test me on this. I'm leaving in the morning and you and Flintin are staying here where you're nice and safe."

"No."

"Fate's fire!" Dad cursed and kicked a nearby chair. "Florgin, you're impossible sometimes!"

"So?"

Dad just shook his head and gave a frustrated growl.

"I can fight, Dad."

"I know you can fight, Florgin," Dad said softly and looked me square in the eyes. "You're my son- I wouldn't think you couldn't. But are only ten seasons old…"

"I can still stab a beast."

"Florgin, that's not the point…"

"It is the point, Dad," I said boldly. "They killed Mom. I want to kill them back."

"Let me worry about avenging your mother, son," Dad said dangerously and gripped his sword so tight his knuckles whitened. Taking a deep sigh, Dad replied in a much softer tone than his eyes implied. "You don't need the blood of vermin on your paws."

"But Dad…"

"Not another word about it, Florgin," Dad said when I opened my mouth to argue. "I don't want to spend the rest of the day fighting with you. Now, run along and find your brother while I finish packing and then the three of us will go fishing together."

* * *

I found Flintin with my cousins Tessa and Celdor sitting outside Gramma and Poppa's cottage munching on some honey and fig squares.

"C'mon Flint," I said coldly, still angered at my failed conversation with my dad. "Dad wants to take us fishing before he has to leave tomorrow."

"Yeah!" Flintin exclaimed and jumped up to my side. "I bet I catch the biggest one!"

I couldn't help but smile at him because he had Mom's smile. Maybe that's why I always tried to make him happy; so I could see it again.

"Probably," I laughed despite my sour mood and started walking back towards our cottage listening to Flintin prattle along about Seasons knows what until we passed the home of my Aunt Myri and her family.

"Not going with him camp rats?" A snooty voice said behind me and I just gritted my teeth at the recognizable tone of my cousin Kiefer. "Uncle Florus isn't taking you two back to the army where you belong."

"No," I replied and wheeled on my older cousin where he was leaning over the dutch door of the cottage. "We're staying here."

We just glared at each other. We had never gotten along, not even in the beginning when Flint and me were new to the village. Oh, Aunt Myri was nice enough to us, but she always gave Dad a weird glance whenever we were with him and more than once I had watched her whispering to others while pointing fingers at us. I didn't know why, really. I assumed, but I didn't _know_. I assumed it was about how Dad brought us home to live with him and _her_ name came up when they asked Dad how _Aunt Brielle_ was. He just shook his head saying _not hers _and that was the end of it.

"Father says bastards are only good enough for the army," my other cousin Karl sniped and came to stand beside his twin brother. "And that's what you two are; just a pair of bastards."

I covered Flintin's ears instantly. I didn't want him to hear such talk. He was only seven seasons old.

"We are not!" I said defensively. "Bastards don't have dads. We _have_ dads."

"Ya, two different ones!" Karl laughed and pointed his finger at us.

"So?"

"So, your mom was a wenchmouse," Kiefer snickered. "A rutter."

"She was not!" I yelled angrily, still holding Flintin's ears to try and muffle their voices. "Take that back Kiefer!"

"Will not," he said and took a bite of the apple in his paw. Both of them came out of the cottage then and stood in front of us in silent challenge. "You two say you have different dads, and if your mom wasn't married, then that would make her a bedder."

"She was not!" This time I snarled the words. I was so angry. My mom was the bestest mom in all of Southsward. How dare they talk about her like she was tripe?

"Truth hurts, don't it?" Karl jeered as he poked Kiefer in the ribs with his elbow. "Look Kiefer, the camp rats are lost for words!"

"C'mon, Flintin," I said slowly, and turned Flintin around by his shoulders. My cousins were just looking for a fight, and General Marc always told us those looking for a fight, don't fight fair so I wasn't about to get mixed up with them. Besides, whether I wanted to admit it or not, those words did hurt. "Let's go home."

"It's not your home," Kiefer sneered. "It's Uncle Florus and Aunt Brielle's home."

"Who's Aunt Brielle?" Flintin asked quietly and looked up at me with his gray eyes. "Who is she, Florgin?"

I just shook my head. I didn't know and frankly, I wasn't in the mood to ask the twits to explain themselves. I just wanted to get Flintin away from them before they said any more nasty things, as they were only bound to do if we stuck around.

"Aunt Brielle is Uncle Florus'_ wife_," Kiefer said smugly. The words stung almost as much as my eighth whiplash.

"Mister Florus was bringing our mom home to live with us!" Flintin snapped back defensively when he saw me grimace. "We were going to be a family and Mom was going to be Mister Florus' wife!"

"You wouldn't have been allowed in the village had Auntie Brielle been here," Karl laughed. "She would have turned you all out on your ears. There's no way she would have allowed Uncle Florus to bring home _bastards_ and a _whore_."

That was enough for me. How I got to them, I didn't know; I just remember punching the smile right off of Karl's face and giving Kiefer a hard elbow in the gut when he tried to get me from behind. I know Karl kicked me in the knee and Flintin jumped on him when I fell over. The four of us fought, snarling, biting, growling, punching, snapping, kicking… you get the picture. It must have been an awful sight because the next thing I knew a brew smelling paw grabbed me by the collar and hauled me off my cousin.

"Alright- break it up!" I heard Duncan yell above the melee of our battle. "C'mon lads, enough now!"

"Kiefer, Karl! What is…" another voice started to question, but my brother interrupted them.

"They called us names!" Flintin roared from where a lanky squirrel named Collin was holding him up by the tail. There was blood coming from his mouth and I could see he was missing a tooth, and his eye was beginning to swell. "He called our mom names!"

"Liar!" Kiefer yelled back, holding his left paw. I grinned through my scowl. Broken paw would teach him not to aim for my head and hit the ground instead. Stupid mouse.

"You did call names!" Flintin growled and flailed about as if he could crawl through the air at him.

"They aren't names if they're true!" Karl sniped and I took a step forward at him. My cousin visibly cringed at my advance and the hold on my collar tightened.

"Don't even think about it, Florgin," my holder said sternly. "You've done enough damage for one day."

"Me?" I gasped and looked up at the beast I was learning my trade from. "Mister Brannon, I…"

"What in the name of the Seasons is going on here?"

Dad. Great. Wonderful.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing a few paces off holding two fishing poles and a rucksack.

"Florgin attacked us!" Kiefer called out, nodding to the crowd with his declaration. "He punched Karl in the snout and…"

"And you earned it!" I challenged and twisted away from Brannon's grasp to stand boldly in front of the older mouse. "You don't deserve the tongue in your head!"

"Florgin!" Dad admonished me as he collected Flintin from Collin and held the end of his sleeve to my brother's bleeding mouth. "Florgin…"

"Camp rat!"

"Snip-nose!"

"Rutter's whelp!"

Everybeast fell silent at Kiefer's hurtful words. Dad looked ready to kill.

"Kiefer!" Aunt Myri gasped as she pushed her way through the gathering beasts and snagged both Kiefer and Karl by their ears. "Apologize to your cousins at once! You too Karl!"

"No!" Karl snapped as Kiefer whined. "We did nothing wrong…"

"Strong names for lads their age to know, Myri," Dad said coldly. I knew he was behind me now; I could feel the anger radiating off him. But maybe it was me. I was so tense my tail muscles were quivering.

"You two apologize to your Uncle Florus and your cousins, _immediately,"_ Aunt Myri grumbled out, a blush rising to her cheeks as she tried to ignore my dad's words.

"Where would they have heard that, I wonder?" Dad continued and stepped in front of me. "Where Myri?"

She was silent.

"My own sister," Dad sneered and shook his head. "Nice."

"Oh Florus, don't give me that!" Aunt Myri said boldly. "You come home after a march with two random mouselets claiming one of them to be yours and you don't think beasts are going to talk?"

"Not my own kin," Dad replied snidely over his shoulder as he led us away.

"Florgin is ten seasons old, Florus," Myri pressed as we walked away. "Brielle left eight ago."

Dad stopped walking and carefully put Flintin back on the ground before turning back to my aunt. Most of the village was there now. All of them, looking at us.

"That's not important, Myri," Dad said firmly.

"No wonder she left if you lay with a camp follower…"

"Enough Myri!" my poppa yelled and shouldered his way in front of his daughter to give her a hard stare. "Brielle's departure has nothing to do with Florus. He wasn't even here…"

"No, he was too busy rutting and disgracing our family."

I didn't want to listen to anything anymore. One look at Flintin's glassy eyes told me he didn't want to listen anymore either. Grabbing my brother's paw, we both sprinted into the trees and away from all the raised voices where we could be alone and away from all those beasts we were supposed to call _family_.

* * *

It was dusk when Dad finally found us.

We were up in one of the forest meadows beside the rock cliff that looked out over a western bluff. It was a spot not many went, but one Flintin and me came often when we wanted to be alone. We sat in silence for a little bit before conversing about anything that didn't involve what happened and after a spell of time, Flintin's nerves relaxed and he settled down beside me and I sang a few tunes to put him to sleep. I guess that's how Dad found us. He must have followed my voice.

"Florgin?" Dad asked quietly as he came around the rock and saw me sitting with my back to the rock and Flintin asleep beside me on the soft moss. I didn't even spare him a look. I was too busy watching the sunset and thinking how many colours were in the sky and how Mom would have smiled at it and called it beautiful.

Sensing my distance, Dad just sighed and sat down beside me.

"I'm sorry you both had to hear that, Florgin," Dad said after a few moments of silence. "I'm sorry your cousins called you two names. It won't happen again."

I just nodded. What was going to say to him? We both knew it would happen again. And again. And again.

"Come on," Dad said with a little smile and nudged me slightly with his shoulder. "Let's go home."

"It's not our home," I whispered. "It's yours and Brielle's home."

"Florgin…"

"Kiefer said Brielle was your wife," I said plainly.

"Did he?"

I nodded and Dad exhaled slowly.

"Aren't wives maids that you have babes with?" I asked.

"Usually, yes," Dad sighed. "Sometimes."

"But you had me with Mom and she wasn't…" I sniffed and blinked back furious tears. My paws felt like they were on fire from the emotional tingles pulsing through them. "And Larkin is Flintin's dad and then Captain Elgan… but you were going to bring Mom home. I heard her say you wanted to be a family. How could she have been your family if…"

I stopped and just pulled my knees up to hug them and rest my chin. I knew I wasn't making any sense, but I had so many questions and I didn't know where to begin.

"Florgin, I want you to listen to me and forget all the things you heard," Dad said sternly. "Your mother was the dearest creature to me, regardless of anything else in the world. Do you understand that?"

"But, she wasn't… I mean she was with… others," I practically spat the words off my tongue as quickly as I made them. "Good maids aren't supposed to… I mean that means she was…"

"Yes," Dad responded and rubbed the back of his neck before leaning back against the rock with me. "But it doesn't matter who she was to other beasts, Florgin. What matters, the only thing that matters, is what she was to _you_."

_The bestest mom in all of Southsward_, I thought and blinked tears from my eyes as I tried not to cry. I was a lad of ten seasons after all; I wasn't supposed to cry, but all I wanted was her to hug me right then. Was it so bad I just wanted my mom?

"Your mother didn't want to be the way she was, Florgin," Dad explained softly and looked out into the sunset. "It was me that ruined her."

I just stared at Dad. "What do you mean?"

"Florgin, you know how beasts are together- I know you've clued in to what happens between a male and a maid."

"Yes," I mumbled and blushed. I knew how babes were made. One thing growing up in the army, you learnt about things young and when _not_ to go places. Like I said before, I didn't think my mom was one of _those maids_.

"Well, about thirteen seasons ago now, your mother came to the army to work as cook when her family died and she had no other way to feed herself," Dad recalled with a chuckle. "She caused quite the stir amongst our legion. You know, your mother was quite the beauty."

I nodded. I thought my mom was pretty and kind. I always kind of wondered why no male had ever wanted to have her as a wife. From what I heard from the legionnaires, that's what they all seemed to want. A pretty, gentle wife that could cook and have children. Mom could do all that. She was pretty and kind and could cook anything. She could have children; she had Flintin and me. I always wondered, but never really thought about it seriously. After all, she did have _Dad_.

"Well, she did well to guard herself for a whole season, driving us all mad!" Florus chuckled. "But then… well, I happened to catch her one night bathing and… huh, I think you can fill in the rest."

I just made a face. I knew my parents must have… well, I got there somehow, but I did not have any desire to picture it. Thanks Dad for the mental image. So, didn't need that.

Dad laughed at my expression and squeezed my shoulder. "Too much information?"

"Just a little," I snickered then turned serious. "But you just… did it?"

"I guess you could say we were friends, Florgin," Dad mused. "We talked and got to know each other long before I walked in on her by mistake. I guess you could say we were falling in love."

"So if you loved Mom, why didn't you marry her?" I pressed. At that, Dad was silent.

"Dad?"

"It was complicated, Florgin."

"Why?"

"Because as much as I loved your mother, I couldn't do a blasted thing about it," Dad replied with a tone dripping with resentment. "You see, son. I was already married."

"What!" I yelled and jumped to my footpaws to glare at him. How Flintin didn't wake up, I don't know; I guess he was just that exhausted from the stress of the day. "You were _what_?"

"Florgin…"

"You were married and you still did that to Mom!" I said angrily. I always thought of my dad as brave, but this just seemed so cowardly. "You did that knowing… Dad, why?"

"I told you, son," he replied and gave me a sad look. "I, we had fallen in love with each other.

"Florgin, your mother and I were together for a little while, but the march ended in the fall and I went home," Dad continued and patted the ground for me to sit down again. "In the spring, I came back with the call and there you were, strapped to her back so she could work. She told me you were mine and I've never doubted that you were. I know you are my son."

"How could you leave her?" I asked plainly. "Dad, how could you do that to Mom and then leave her. Did you not want… me?"

"Of course I wanted you, Florgin!" Dad exclaimed and pulled me in for a tight hug. "Of course I wanted my son! But I didn't know she was carrying you when I left. She probably didn't even know for a good half season."

"But then you still never brought us home," I whispered. "Were you ashamed of us?"

"Florgin I have never, nor will I ever, be ashamed of you!" Dad said loudly. "Do you understand me?"

I nodded. "But Dad if you had a wife, why did you… with Mom?"

"I didn't have a happy marriage, Florgin," Dad relented. "Brielle and I were not what you would call happily married."

"Then why did you marry her?"

"Mine was an arranged marriage. Your poppa picked the maid. I met Brielle the day before we were married."

"Oh," I said quietly. "And you didn't love each other?"

"No, she hated me to the core," Dad laughed of all things. "She was used to a trade family with security and ample coin. Being a legionnaire's wife didn't really suit her. I thought I was in for a life of misery, until I met your mother that is."

"Mom?"

"Yes," Dad smiled. "She was warm and caring, Florgin. Smiling no matter the weather and always had a kind word to say. You know how she was; I don't need to sing her praises to you.

"I know I broke her heart when I finally told her why I couldn't bring her home with me. Why I couldn't make you both a proper family. You see I never told her…"

"_You never told her you were married!"_

"I never told her I was married, no," Dad continued despite my outburst. "But my heart was breaking too. There I was sitting on the bank of a river holding you in my paws with the kindest maid I had ever met crying beside me. I felt as low as a toad."

"You should have," I snipped and crossed my arms. "You should have just brought us home anyway."

"All I wanted to do was bring you two home and show you off," Dad said as if I hadn't spoken. "I wanted to be the proud father who got to show off his first born and teach you how to walk holding onto my paws in our home. I wanted you to be fussed over by my sisters and spoiled by your grandparents. And I wanted your mother to curl up beside me each night and we could fall asleep listening to your little snores coming from the cradle.

"But I couldn't bring you both home and have a life worth living with a wife that would have smiled for me when I came in the door instead of one scowling and demanding coin. I got to walk home alone instead of having a young one tag my tail like the other males did. I couldn't wait for the next march to come. I couldn't wait to come home to you two. For me, the army became my home and my village became my battlefield."

I was just silent. I didn't know what to say to him, but I could tell the story wasn't over.

"I was sent home early from battle that summer," Dad recalled. "I caught a fever and the generals feared an epidemic, so they sent home all the creatures affected.

"I'll never forget how joyful I was when I staggered into my cottage and saw it deserted. Brielle had left. She was gone. I hollered and jumped around like a simpleton over it- ask any beast in Flamring and they will say I was right down with delirium.

"I came back with the call up that winter- the winter Flintin was born. I thought could finally bring you two back and we could be a family. But then I saw your mother and… her condition. I knew it wasn't mine. We hadn't been together after you were born and well, I wasn't around that summer to sire a babe on her again. I knew it must have been another male's mouseling."

"Larkin," I said in a solemn voice that made me sound like I had just aged five seasons. And you know, in a way I guess I had. "So because of Larkin, you didn't ask Mom to come home with you?"

"I felt betrayed, Florgin," Dad confessed. "I can't explain the feeling. I know she did what she did to get coin to feed you, but I couldn't… I would say one day you will know what I mean, but I hope you never do."

I just nodded. Now I knew why he gave Mom that weird look that stormy night Flintin was born; the one of hate and pain and a little bit of sorrow. I knew then I never wanted to go through what my dad was telling me. Regardless of whose side you favoured, it sounded awful and full of heartache.

"But you asked her to come home," I whispered. "That night after Captain Elgan hurt her… you asked her to come back and be a family."

"Yes," Dad smiled. "I loved her too much to have her live that life anymore. I couldn't stand to think of another male touching her let alone hurting her the way Elgan did. You know that's not the way to ever treat a maid, right son?"

I bobbed my head without hesitation.

"I don't know why she suffered his advances anyway," Dad said almost to himself.

"She did it for you," I muttered without realizing I said anything out loud until Dad gave me a puzzled look.

"What?"

"She made a deal with Captain Elgan the night Flintin was born to keep you in the back of the charge," I recalled. "He was supposed to keep you safe."

"I was never in the back of a charge, Florgin," Dad said in disbelief. "I was always in the front."

Dropping his face to his paws I heard Dad mutter in bitter comprehension, "Ah, Liana why did you try to deal with a snake?

"This is why you are staying here with your brother, Florgin," Dad continued after a few moments of silence. "I don't want you anywhere near that corrupt army, do you understand?"

"Yes," I replied. Hey, I said I understood, not that I agreed or that I would follow his orders.

Without another word, Dad got to his footpaws and picked Flintin up as gentle as you would a babe, cradling him against his chest and motioning with his head that I should follow him home.

* * *

The next morning, Dad and the other fighters left for the march. Flintin and me stood with the others and waved them off as normal as you like. We played with the others during the day and had dinner with my grandparents that evening. It was after in the dead of the night when we were supposed to be asleep that we took matters into our own paws.

Hurriedly, we packed our haversacks and gathered food and knives we could use as weapons. I had my dirk from General Marc and we each grabbed a sturdy walking stick for our travel. We weren't about to stay in a village that wasn't our home, that called us names and tarnished our mother's memory. We weren't going to leave my Dad alone to the corruption of the army. He was the only family we had left and we were going to do all we could to keep him safe. Foolish as the idea might be to you, to us, we were being braver than brave.

By the light of the moon we stole out of the village and tracked the fighters' pawprints west through the forest away from the place that was supposed to be our home. But it wasn't our home- just a place we had stayed at for a time. Our real home we were on our way to, but we didn't know it yet.

One footpaw in front of the other one, my brother and I started our journey home.

* * *

**Well, that's the end of Florgin's tale. I know I may have told you this last piece was a bit of a laugh, but I thought it best to have a little part of Florgin told from a different point of view. You'll see what I mean later. ;)**

**Anyways... PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Up next... we shift from the south to the north, where a different mouse is starting his journey home as well... Can you guess who it is? **


	13. Descending Upwards: Part 1-Self Portrait

**Descending Upwards: Part 1- Self Portrait**

_"__I am strong against everything, except against the death of those I love. He who dies gains; he who sees others die loses." _  
-Alexandre Dumas_, The Man in the Iron Mask-_

* * *

I was the most worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad the Seasons had ever created. Or at least, that is what I thought of myself. Daily, my mind invented new insults to call me until I had beaten myself up so much I swear my innards were purple and blue from the punches. I had nothing to live for and thought my life pointless. I caused nothing but sadness and pain; left nothing but sorrow in my wake. I wanted nothing more than to die, but was not cowardly enough to do it myself. No, regardless of how much I welcomed death, I still had the need to die honourably. I don't know why I thought I deserved it; I had an innocent's blood on my paws. I was the lowest of low. I was a murderer; even worse than a plain old murderer. I was a murderer of a maid.

At first glance you wouldn't think I was. On the outside I looked like any other normal mouse; blue eyed and copper-furred, tall and strong through my shoulders. I had simple clothes and a tattered cloak, but not uncommon for a traveler or a wanderer. My sword was strapped to my back, but most beasts went armed in the wild. No, to another creature I would just appear to be an average mouse traipsing about the world. Maybe even a kind sort, too; one that would care and protect a family. By my scars on my cheeks and calloused wrists from the slave shackles, I looked like one who _had _protected a family, or at least one I had _wanted _to be my family. Yes, some normal mouse I appeared, but it was behind my blue eyes and fading scars that my true colours lay. Murderer.

I was also an oath breaker. On more than one occasion I broke solemn vows that I should have died defending. First, I broke an oath to my father- to never kill in anger. I killed in a hot-blooded rage. Second, I broke the warrior's oath to always defend the weak- I let innocent creatures die. And thirdly, and most hurtfully, I swore to a kindly mousewife that I would care for her daughter's life greater than I would my own- I broke that one too, seeing as I am still walking and breathing and her daughter is resting below the earth, her beautiful eyes never to reflect starlight again. No, there was little I had to be proud of in my young life and even less worth mentioning. All that I had was dead and all that could be buried in the soft soil of a sleepy vale.

I was a wanderer, a drifter, a rover, going neither to nor fro, but rather walking in whichever direction my paws took me in the morning, when I regrettable woke up from a night I had hoped not to live through. But always I pressed south, always further away from my memories and my guilt; further away from her.

I had thought about going home and claiming my family's right as a tribal chieftain, but what beast would want to follow a murderer? Or even if my father had made it home from his quest- what father would want a vermin dressed in mouse-skin for a son? A true warrior as him would be shamed by some beast like me. He would disown me, and I wouldn't blame him for it. I wouldn't want me. I would turn myself out if I came knocking on the cave entrance, worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad that I was.

And I was ill. My mind didn't work right, my heart beat oddly. I had become… different. At night I would sit unblinkingly watching the darkness before me and in my mind I could carry on a complete conversation with her, and as long as I didn't blink, my eyes would eventually mould shadows into her figure and I could sometimes see her smile. I trained my ears only to hear my thoughts and not the sounds of the world around me. Once I even heard her laugh. It was during those times, my heart did odd things and would every so often halt and I would have to hammer my paw to my chest to get it thumping again.

When sleep would finally take me, I would close my eyes and watch her dancing in the lodge of her village, her beautiful eyes twinkling with merriment and her delicate paws waving to me to join her, to follow her into the grey mists and towards the blackness. And how I wished I could go. How I wished to follow her; just once to stretch my paw out far enough to touch hers. How I longed for that gap to close and for a brief moment say all the things I never said. Worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad that I was I never, never told her how I felt. But did I really know until it was too late? Sure I did. I knew that day she sang to the bees. I knew I wanted to listen to her voice forever. I should have told her then. I should have hugged her and maybe even kissed her paw, but not her lips. No, that came later with marriage. Maybe I would have kissed her cheek, but that would be the closest I would get. Well, maybe if she let me, if I asked her first if I could kiss her…

But none of that matter now. She was gone. She was dead. She was no more and it was all because of me. Her blood was on my paws and no matter how I scrubbed at them in the rivers or pools of water I came across, I could never get that red off. It was there to stay.

I should have made her stay behind in her village. What was I thinking? War was no place for a maid. Selfishly, I had allowed her to follow me back to that Fate-forsaken fort. Arrogantly, I had thought it alright. Stupidly, I let her join the charge. And for what? Like she was going to do much damage with that simple sling of hers and those kind eyes. What advantage did I honestly think we were going to gain by her being in the ranks? But I let her charge in and she died. Those were as much my paws that threw her against the wall as they were that cowardly stoat's. I should have never left her side. I should have stayed with her and just been patient at the tunnels. It should have been me to defend Grumm and be pitched into the unforgiving stone. It should have been me to die defending her, keeping her safe, as I promised. As I vowed to do.

"Worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad," I muttered for the tenth time since noontide and kept walking forward down the rocky paths of ocean cliffs, kicking stones off the edge and into the Eastern Sea below. With any luck I would run into a band of vermin and this time they would be too much for me. I could only hope they would finish me off unlike the last batch I ran into. Those sorry excuses for fur barely even caused me to break a sweat. A disgrace to the cruelty of vermin they were. Six of them and they couldn't even dispose of a mouse fighting bare pawed. A mouse of what, fifteen- sixteen seasons? I couldn't really remember how old I was. It had been so long since a beast had reminded me, or I cared to keep track of.

Coming to a particularly narrow part of the pass, I shuffled along the rocks carefully while I admired the peaceful beach below me; the sands were a deep brown colour and the waves a crisp blue as they lapped over the shore and receded again into the sea. It seemed too pretty a place to be as deserted as I was finding it. I couldn't believe there weren't any woodland creatures making their homes around the shore, but I guess the mangy stoat cleared them all out. My hackles rose at the thought of him, but quickly I calmed myself before my blood started racing. The stoat was dead. He wouldn't harm or enslave creatures again. Ever.

Stepping a little too forcefully on the shallow ledge, I felt the rocks give way and crumble beneath my footpaws. Instinctually, I grasped at the cliff, the sharp rocks scoring my paws deeply as I hung on for survival, desperate to find footholds. But the blood from my cuts made my paws slick and they slipped off their holds before I could right myself and I feel backwards towards the sands below.

I landed with a hard thud; my head bouncing off the sands and making my mind spin and go fuzzy. The air in my lungs flew out on impact and I gasped and coughed against the burning sensation in my chest and my… leg.

My sword must have fallen from its straps on my back and beat me to the beach, because there it was, sticking out of my left thigh where I had fallen on it. I groaned against the pain and pawed at the hilt in my spinning vision to try and pull it free, but I couldn't concentrate on the image long enough to make a grasp at it. Eventually I summoned what little strength I had in my pain riddled body and tried to sit up, but the motion was too much for my body to take and after a single breath of sitting upright, my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I flopped back against the cold sand.

* * *

How long I lay there I have no idea. I just remember feeling a sheering pain in my thigh and the sound of flesh sucking against steel reaching my ears. And then water. I remember being covered in water. And voices. I could hear muffled voices.

"There! That's the sword out..."

"We gots ta get him outta here afore more tide comes in and he loses more blood from that wound!"

"What's a mouser doin' in these parts anyways? Don't he know where he is?"

"Don't look like it- hey, look he's coming 'round!"

"Hey, mouser," the one said patting my cheeks softly. "Wake up, mouser."

I just groaned and tried to open my eyes to view the blurring forms above me. Immediately, my mind began to swim and I felt nauseous, forcing my eyes closed as I took deep breaths to swallow the bile burning my throat.

"C'mon now, mouser," the creature said again, pulling on my limp limbs and forcing me into a sitting position then hauling me onto my footpaws. I put the slightest bit of weight on my injured leg and gasped out in pain.

"Easy," a softer voice said and slide under my arm to steady me. "Jus' lean on us and keep your weight off that paw!"

I just did whatever the voices told me to do. I was in no position to argue. Slowly, they led me forward, but after two steps I felt my consciousness starting to slip away from me again.

"Oh no, mouser, no you don't!" the stronger of the voices snipped. "C'mon. Stay with us. Talk mouser. What's your name?"

"Worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad," I muttered almost incoherently.

"What? What was that, mouser?"

"Martin," I mumbled and gritted my teeth against the pain as they led me forward. "My name is Martin."

* * *

**So if you couldn't already tell, here begins my version of Martin's journey from Polleekin's tree to Mossflower. **

**I know it's early, but remember to review! ;)**

**(For those of you who read TSAHF- think back to a certain scene where Martin's scars are getting examined. Now you know where the one on his thigh came from ;) I know, I like to find little things to tie everything together...)**


	14. DescendingUpwards:Part2-Learni ng to Liv...

**Special thanks to Lady Storm and Saraa Luna for review the last chapter, and to Jade Tealeaf who is catching up in her reviews. To that rest of you out there reading this- Where are your two cents? Come on now- I get the view counts. Type in that little box in the bottom and hit the post button. You know you want to...**

**Anyways, all things aside here we go on... descending upwards. ;)**

* * *

**Descending Upwards: Part 2- Learning to Live**

_"__Too many years fighting back tears  
Why can't the past just die?  
Wishing you were somehow here again  
Knowing we must say, "Goodbye"  
Try to forgive, teach me to live  
Give me the strength to try  
No more memories, no more silent tears  
No more gazing across the wasted years  
Help me say, "Goodbye"  
Help me say, "Goodbye.""_

_-"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again," _The Phantom of the Opera_-_

* * *

I didn't want to recover, but I did thanks to the persistence of my rescuers Alijah and Althea. It wasn't so much the sword to my thigh, that was just a flesh wound, but it was my head injury they were worried about. For days they woke me up at what seemed every hour, constantly placing cold cloths on my head and encouraging me to mutter out some sort of incoherent nonsense as my mind swirled and spun within the confides of my skull. Any food they offered me, I just vomited up and even water was hard to keep down, but I managed to eventually. The barest of lights made my eyes seem like they were going to explode and I was so tired, always so tired. Had I been alone or given the chance to slip deeper into a cataleptic slumber I doubt I would have ever woken up; but like I said, my rescuers were persistent. And stubborn. And well, pikas. That word there explains the whole lot.

Yes, Alijah and Althea were pikas; small creatures similar to a hare or rabbit with short limbs and without the long ears- no pikas had rounded auricles. They were older than me, but not by much, only a few seasons maybe, and were brother and sister. I had been fortunate that they were out harvesting sea grass for some sort of absurd pika habit called 'haying' when Althea had seen me prone on the shore with the tide coming in. Together they half dragged me back to their small burrow which hidden in the thicker part of a forest just west of the coastline and well, nursed me back to health. I owe them my life really and for more than one reason.

After a week I could sit up; after two I could shuffle around the den using a crutch. Within a month I was walking outside for an hour twice a day and once half a season had passed, I was back to my old self, well, physically that is. Emotionally, I was still a cripple, but they didn't know… ah, sure they knew. Mice were generally cheery creatures, whereas I was solemn and quiet. It wasn't normal to sit in one place for hours and stare at nothing, not speaking or shifting. But I did. I did it often; that is until they started pushing me to get moving and help them with this crazy haying procedure. Seasons be thanked for Alijah and Althea; those pikas taught me to live again, taught me how to say goodbye to _her_.

Looking back on it, I can't imagine what I would have become had the Seasons not made me as stupid as I was to try and cross that narrow rock ledge not thinking that I could fall. But then as I was quickly learning, the Seasons always seemed to have some sort of plan; they always seemed to make things happen for a reason. That or they had a queer sense of humour. I mean really, here I was, a mouse hating my own innards wanting to do nothing but sit and wallow in my past and sorrow… and then there were pikas scurrying to and fro, gathering vegetation; always pushing me to move, to do something or to simply smile like life was enjoyable and not a curse. Moving forward always, never believing in going backwards. By the Fates, they never even went home the same way as they came to avoid the connection. Always, they were moving forward through life.

"Ho, now mouser Martin," Alijah called to me as I walked out of the burrow and into the light of the morning. "Fine day!"

"The sun is shining," I mumbled and adjusted the sword on my belt. "Haying already?"

"Yes, yes," Alijah scoffed and flicked his small rounded ears back and forth with the sounds of the forest while he tied off a bushel of wheat stalks. "Always. Gotta be ready for winter, ya know."

I simply nodded and sat down on the rock beside him. "Where's Althea, Al?"

"Gatherin' flowers," Alijah replied and rolled his eyes, stepping around the pile to elude a backwards step. "She thinks they make ta burrow nicer, our ma used ta do it, too."

Althea and her flowers. Always she was bringing home some to put in a vase or bucket, or pitcher or cup. Daisies, buttercups, bluebells, that like. All wild, but flowers all the same.

"Found some good switch grasses by the meadow this morning," Alijah put in slyly. "Tried pullin' them out, but the roots be a mite too deep for yankin' on."

"I'll go cut them," I responded, picking up on the pika's hint. "Make this sword do something worthwhile anyways."

"Swords show their worth when they are needed," Alijah said plainly. "They protect when there are those in need o' protectin'."

I grimaced, the pika sighed. "Mouser Martin- your sword…"

"How much of this grass do you want?" I interrupted quickly before he could talk more. "How much do you want me to bring back?"

"Oh, jus' a bundle," Alijah exhaled and straightened up to take his leave himself. "I'm off ta the cliffs ta get more mosses. Ya want more o' those mussel things I found last time?"

I bobbed my head slightly. How could I say no to ocean fare?

"Well, good hayin' then," the pika replied, tipping his head. "See ya at noontide."

"Good haying," I sighed and turned to take my own path towards the meadow.

* * *

I found the switch grass easily and went about cutting the blades with my sword in a peculiar manner for an observer. See this was my _training_; the grass was my foe and I would dodge imaginary strikes and twist away from blocks to make clean slices foliage. Sidestepping, striking, keening, back thrusts, parries; I decimated my enemy.

When I was done, when I had taken out enough of my frustration and secretive sorrow, I went about gathering the fallen swath and bound them with a strand of hemp so I could sling it over my shoulder. As I started to walk back to the burrow, and yes I went the same way I came for _I_ had no problem going backwards, I heard it. I heard _her_.

_Martin._

Her voice was as soft as the petals of the flower that bore her name.

I wheeled around, my heart pounding in my chest and tears swelling in my eyes. Frantically, I dropped my quarry and gazed around the meadow, half expecting her to pop out of the grasses or glance from behind a tree. My paws throbbed with the need to hold her again. They tingled and pulsed with want, but where was she? I heard her voice. I know I did. Where was she?

_Martin._

There it was again, floating on breeze towards me, its tone as warm as the late summer zephyr it rode on. I had to find her.

Briskly, I wandered through the lea, looking behind rocks, around bushes and up tree branches. I was almost back to where the switch had been when I heard a light humming noise coming from the woods to the south. I didn't hesitate. I ran towards it.

Crashing through the trees and underbrush, a familiar scent reached my nostrils. A soothing sweet smell like amber honey mixed with the first raindrops of spring. A rose, but was it _my Rose_.

When I came to the clearing I held my breath when it caught in my throat. I didn't swallow it and I most certainly did not let it go. To do either would acknowledge what was not in front of me.

"Mouser Martin!" Althea smiled as started from my abrupt entry. "What ya doing here?"

"I-I don't know," I stammered out, forcing the large lump of disappointment and hope down my throat and back into my heart where it belonged. "What are you doing here?"

"Pickin' flowers," Althea chuckled and spun round to the thorny mass in front of her. "They finally be ready.

I just watched her hum and cut the long stems with her belt knife, gently laying the dark red blooms in her basket. I don't know why I focused on it, but as she did, the ends dripped a clear liquid from the wound. Like a tear. The flowers were crying. I couldn't let them cry. I never wanted _my flower_ to cry.

"Stop it," I said bluntly. "Althea, stop it."

"Stop what, mouser?" the pikamaid asked and turned from her task. "Gatherin' roses?"

"Stop killing them," I choked out. "They don't want to die. They want to live. Leave them on the bush where they belong."

"Mouser Martin…"

"I said STOP IT!" I yelled, striding to her and kicking the basket away after I swatted the knife from her paw. "Can't you see you're hurting her? Killing her? Can't you just least her alone!"

I was panting and shaking when I slumped down on the ground completely consumed by my tears. The more I tried to stop the more the pain clawed at my heart and the harder it was to breath. I just let the tears flow, at least then I could breath.

Althea sat in silence beside me, letting me cry, letting me rock myself in a feeble attempt to comfort my hurt. Eventually, I stopped and wiped the dampness from my cheeks. A light blush rose to my face in my embarrassment. Still the pika sat in silence and for the first time since I met them, she was motionless.

"I'm sorry, Althea," I mumbled out and closed my eyes in shame. "I don't know what came over me."

"That's a lot o' tears ta be sheddin' o'er a few roses, Martin," she replied quietly, almost in a whisper. "Those not tears for a bunch o' blossoms."

I was just silent. I made a vow. I would never speak of Noonvale, of Marshank, of _any_ of them as long as I was alive. I had broken so many oaths in my lifetime already I could at least honour that one; honour her. As far as these pikas were concerned, I had started wandering after I left my father's cave. Simple as that. That's all I told them and that's all they needed to know, there was no need to go back on that lie now.

"Aight, mouser, I won't pick anymore blooms," Althea said softly and tried to give me a warm smile. "But I not be leavin' these cut stems out in the sun to bake neither. Help me gather them back up."

I shook my head. I couldn't do that.

"Now, mouser Martin ya've held a flower or two before," Althea said in a studious tone while she watched and examined my expressions, tones and movements. She was digging for information that would never be offered up; trying to piece together the mystery on her own. "What's wrong that ya can't pick up a cutting?"

"I-It's a rose," I stammered out and jumped slightly when she took my paw and placed a long stalk in it.

"Yes," Althea responded cautiously, watching my eyes. "They be a bunch of beauty red roses."

"I-I can't do this."

"Ya can and ya will," she said sternly. "Hold that stalk, Martin."

I was breathing heavily now like beast that had just taken a fatal blow as I stared at that rose in my paw. That single, beautiful, soft rose. Immediately, the world went silent and it was as if nothing else existed.

_Rose_, I whispered in my mind. _My beautiful Rose_.

"Tell me 'bout her," Althea said quietly once my expression softened and my breathing regulated. "Tell me 'bout this flower of yours."

"She's gone," I mumbled. "There's nothing to tell."

"Ah, but there is, mouser," Althea said knowingly. "There be a lot to tell."

Again I shook my head. I wasn't going to let it out. Not now, not ever.

"Ya be a strong beast ta keep in a hurt like that, Martin," Althea sighed and put my other paw over the stem. "She be a lucky maid ta have the heart of a creature brave as ya are."

"I'm not brave," I scoffed lowly and barred my teeth. "I'm a worthless, maggoty, scum-sucking toad."

"Notta her ya weren't," Althea countered. "Notta your flower."

"I am!" I shouted. "I… I…"

I stopped; I couldn't go on. "It's my fault she gone. That she's… dead."

Althea just looked at me, waiting for me to say more, but I didn't. I wouldn't. After a short spell she let out a huff and started gathering up the flowers, placing them delicately into the basket. I simply watched her as she inspected each one and gently blew off the dirt from their petals. When she came to a smaller bud, one just beginning to open into a bloom, she turned her attention back to me.

"This one I picked too early," Althea said softly and held up the budding flower so I could see it. "It was cut from the vine before its time, but it will still bloom. It will bloom as long as I remember ta water it and smell it e'ery day. To love it as it should be loved.

"This flower was not one destined ta wither on a vine, but ta blossom and grow away from the protection of the bush's thorns. When it is done its bloom and it starts to fade, I will use the petals ta make incents. I will cherish while it lasts, but I will know when it is time ta say goodbye."

"I don't want to say goodbye," I whispered and looked at my own rose still in my paw. "I want to say hello."

"And ya will again one day, mouser Martin," Althea smiled warmly, her eyes full of hope. "One day ya will greet your flower again. By either the will o' the Fates or the grace o' the Seasons, ya will hold your flower in your paws once more."

"Will she be waiting for me?" I asked childishly. "Will she wait at the gates of the Dark Forest for me?"

"If she loved ya as much as ya loved her, than I don't think she is waiting for ya," she said plainly. "I think she will be walking beside ya."

"Beside me?" I started slightly at the thought and couldn't resist looking around in attempt to see the pika's words materialize.

"Yes, mouser. Those we love never truly leave us. They always be stayin' with us in our hearts and our souls. Those we love make us who we are and in that they never be far from us.

"So ya see there be no reason for ya ta hold that love in. Let it out. Let _her_ out so she can be free."

"No. I can't."

"Let her walk beside ya, Martin," Althea coaxed. "Ya can't become ta mouse ya will be with her bottled up inside ya. She needs ta be free ta show ya the way."

"I can't talk about her."

"Ya don't have ta."

"I can't see her."

"Close your eyes and she be there."

"I can't hear her."

"Her voice be in your heart."

"I can't touch her paw."

"Ya are."

"What?" I gaped and look down at my rose and my still pulsing paws.

"Ta tingles be her touch," Althea said softly and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "Soft as ta flower's petal ya be holding."

"It hurts," I mumbled. "It still hurts."

"Yes, the past hurts," Althea voiced strongly. "That's why we must put it behind us and take the present that is the future. Forward, mouser Martin; life goes forward whether we be wanting it ta or not. Best ta go forward with it."

My mind was reeling with revelations and for the first time since Rose's death, I felt oddly at peace. I couldn't change what had happened, but I could control what happened next. I make myself into some beast worthy enough to carry her memory. I could still make her proud to call my heart hers.

With a light smile, I gave Althea a nod in silent thanks of her words, her guidance. As I went to turn to go back to the meadow, I looked at the rose in my paws and stopped. Giving a small huff and a large grin curling my lips, I altered my path so was not following my footpaws, leaving the same way I came. I would not go backwards again. Not while I had her to walk beside me.

The next morning I left the burrow and continued my wanderings south, a single traveler with a single purpose. Single, but not alone. No, I had a song in my heart, a tingle in my paw and her smiling face whenever I closed my eyes.

* * *

_"__Long steady road  
Oh travel, be kind  
I'm searching for some peace of mind.  
The home that you know  
A home left behind,  
Oh trouble, don't trouble this time.  
And baby don't look back odds don't stack  
They just crumble down around you.  
Oh, you gotta go away if you wanna come back  
I won't crack I can't make a sound without you.  
And even if it sounds crazy darling I won't let you go.  
And even if it don't stop raining darling I won't let you go.  
And even if the world's burning darling I won't let you go.  
Even if it sounds crazy darling I won't let you go.  
__…_

_No I can't, No I never will, never ever would, No I never could let you go.  
No I just can't, No I never will, never ever would, No I never could let you go."_

-_"I Won't Let You Go (Darling)"_ by Hedley-

* * *

**Alright, so I don't usually end a chapter with a quote, but this one I did. Though "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" was the inspiration for this chapter, "I Won't Let You Go" is the song I picture Martin walking away with. He has learnt to deal with Rose's death; to say goodbye, not to her, but to his sorrow. As we know, he always held her in his heart and though he went through many adventures, he never could let her go.**

**But on a brighter note, I promise this is the last of the "depressing" chapters and the remaining parts/tales are actually kind of humorous. Consider it my treat to all of you who have held tough through all the angst. (Yes, Lady Storm- I used the word 'angst'! ;) )**

**AND REMEMBER- REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! **


	15. DescendingUpwards: TheWarrior&ThePirate

**Thanks for the reviews! I'd preface this installment of Martin's tale with a note, but I think the title speaks for itself. ;) I mean, our little mouse warrior had to "learn" how to fight somehow, right?**

* * *

**Descending Upwards: Part 3- The Warrior and the Pirate**

_"__The next time somebody announces that he plans to get Medieval on your ass, tell him you're going to get Renaissance on his gonads."  
_-James K. Morrow, _The Last Witchfinder-_

* * *

An unlikely pair we were. Don't ever tell my father I was trained by him. I was supposed to be a warrior after all and he was, well, a pirate. If I only knew what I was getting myself into when I climbed about that ship… I'd probably do it twice over.

I met my mentor when I stumbled into the port town of Pelham, located on the eastern seaboard. It was a fishing village, primarily occupied by otters, aonyx, muskrats and squirrels, so naturally, I stood out like a sore claw being a mouse and all; well, that amongst other things. Ha, even when I was younger, I never was one to make a soft entrance.

It was pouring rain when I trudged into a tavern located just south of the main docks and pushed my way through the rowdy crowds to slip onto a high stool at the bar. It was a busy spot, but seeing the deluged that was the weather outside, every beast seemed to have the same idea I did- get warm and dry, it was going to be a long night. Normally, I tried to avoid places like this, but I didn't really have a choice in the matter. Already I was soaked to the bone and though I had travelled my way decently south, it was mid-autumn and the night air was filled with the chill of a promising winter not far ahead.

Keeping my hood pulled up over my head, I rapped my claws over the polished wood to get the barkeep's attention.

"Right mate, hold ya tail," the squirrel snipped and put down the mug he was wiping clean. "What c'n I get ya?"

"Ale." I replied with the confidence of all seventeen of my seasons and let my features soften to a smile. "And some bread if you have it."

"Oh, big spender y'are," the squirrel jested and he picked up the mug again to fill it with brew. "Next ya gonna say ya'll take the day ol' bread t'save a piece."

"If it's cheaper, I will," I responded as my stomach let out a loud growl. It didn't care what I ate as long as I ate something and if it saved me some coin that was enough for me. I only started realize what those ridiculous little rounded pieces of metal were the further south I travelled and came to see how dependent some places were on currency. I guess not all places were developed on what you could give, but rather what you could get. Still, I managed to earn a few bits from the random creatures whenever I helped them along my wanderings- splitting wood for an old mole, rescuing some hedgelets from a cottage fire or even helping a group of hares fight off a weasel (or ten); things like that. I didn't have a lot of it, but I was careful were I spent it.

"Right," the barkeeper said, rolling his eyes just as my soaked cloak hood slipped off one of my ears to expose more of my face than I wanted before I pulled it up and down over my eyes. For some reason, creatures always recognized me by my eyes, regardless if they were blue, or red.

"H'y, I know who ya're," the squirrel mused as he twisted the tap on the keg. "Ya're the mouse that done saved the pokey backs two days 'go from 'eir blazin' cottage- the one that vanished afore they cou' thank-ya."

"Nope," I said and pulled my hood down lower to hide my features. "Wrong mouse."

"Naw, I ne'er forgit a face," the barkeep scoffed and set the mug before me. "I was there gettin' some veges fer the cook when the fire started- ya ran right outta the trees an' inna the blaze 'fore any o' us could yell fer 'elp!"

I didn't respond, but just buried my nose in the brew. Sure, I was a bit young for drinking, but I was my own mouse. Besides, I was in a tavern- what was I going to order? Camomile tea, perhaps?

"Bit o' a hero ya are, mate…"

"Where's the bread?" I interrupted him and thumped my tankard on the counter to stop his odd chatter. He really didn't sound like a squirrel at all, but seeing as he was surrounded by otters and aonyxs it was likely he picked up there mannerisms. It was bloody annoying.

"Payment, first," the squirrel replied and crossed his paws over his chest. "Five bits."

"Five!" I gaped. I only had four coins hidden in my tunic. "A beaker of ale is not worth five bits!"

"No- ale done cost ya two bits," the squirrel smirked at my surprised expression and held up two fingers to demonstrate the sum before gesturing the second figure. "Bread'll cost ya three."

"One bit for the ale," I countered and dropped a coin on the polished wood surface. "Mug's half filled with foam."

"Two bits or ya can see your ruddy tail outta me bar."

"Fine," I said coldly and reached into my tunic to pull out another coin. I guess he was right to press for payment first; my clothes were practically in tatters. It was apparent I didn't have anything save the meagre possessions on my body.

"Ya still done want the bread?" the barkeep questioned with a raised eyebrow. I just shook my head and waved him off, my stomach protesting loudly. Food would have to wait until I found some along the path.

"Listen mate, if ya need o' paw…" the squirrel started, but stopped when the door was pushed inwards and a large bulk of a creature ducked under the doorframe and into the tavern. Every beast stilled in their motions, their own words halting as if afraid to escape the safety of the speaker's throat. Out of pure curiosity, I turned round on my stool and smirked at the beast striding fearlessly through the parted mob.

He was a sea otter, tall and thick through his shoulders. He wore a dark blue jerkin made long to his knees and wrists, wide folds at the hems with a white shirt laced at his neck and end sleeves. Every button on his wears gleamed silver while a black leather belt strapped it all together around his waist. He was a lefter; a beast that fought primarily with his left paw as his cutlass was sheathed at his right hip. This was a different type of otter- right down to his large feathered hat he wore on his head.

The barkeep was quiet as the seadog leaned upon the bar and let his lips curl into a smile. Two other otters now flanked his sides two stools away from me. Guess I never saw them come in for staring at the debonair freebooter.

"Captain," the squirrel said with a tight lip. He seemed anything but impressed by the otters' presence.

"Jake."

A heavy moment of silence passed between them and I fought the urge to laugh. I don't know why; it's like I knew what this was all leading to before it even happened.

"I thought I told ya I didn't want your stinking rudder in my tavern?" Jake snipped before he lost his nerve.

"And here I's thought ya liked coin," the otter said and flicked a large gold coin high in the air at the squirrel. "That'll be three mugs of ale, one bottle o' rum 'n caulkers, and some fish and bread."

"But I said…"

"Listen Bush-tail, it's like this," the waterdog replied and rolled his shoulders to literally flex his muscle. "I's what they call a client. You be the server. I's order food an' drink, you provide said food an' drink until either you run outta food 'r I's run outta coin. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I thought ya might," the captain sneered and pushed himself upright again, still glaring at the squirrel until he turned and started filling tankards with ale.

"Oggin, Rover!" he continued in his deep voice. "Find us a table."

His two companions chuckled to each other and cracked their knuckles in excitement before moving round the bar to procure a few seats.

"Who are these otters and why do they have every beast scared out of their fur?" I asked as I leaned into an old dockyarder standing beside me. The old salt just shook his head to silence me and mouthed the word, "Pirates."

"Got a table 'ere, Captain Wayte!" the shortest of the pair called as he and his friend shoved away a group of groggy muskrats from their chairs. "Winda seat 'n all!"

"Goo' work, Oggin," the sea otter replied and turned from the bar to go to his friends. For a brief second or two, he paused and focused in on me, narrowing his eyes in assessment. They say a good captain knows the strengths and weaknesses of each of his crew and looking back on the moment, I think he was trying to find mine.

"Here, Captain," the barkeep said and plunked a bottle of dark liquid on the counter beside the otter to break his stare. "I only 'ave one bottle o' rum left, so drink it slow."

"Damn ya eyes, Jake- go git more. The 'gates I'm only drinkin' one."

I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation because my attention was directed to my left where a claw tapped on my shoulder.

"Be needin' that stool, mate."

I cocked my head to the side and glanced over my shoulder to see the displaced muskrats behind me. Raising an eyebrow, I make an exaggerated look to my right at the two vacant seats and shook my head.

"You need a bed not a stool, if you've drank enough to be that blind," I replied and shuffled my bottom firmly in place. I didn't really know what the phrase meant, but I had heard it said enough. Like I said- I tried to avoid places like this, but at times, it was unavoidable.

"That be two stumps," he snorted as if I was the stupid one and motioned to the creatures at his flank. "There be three of us."

"So sit in shifts," I snapped back, my youthful arrogance bubbling to the surface. "Or sit on each other's laps if that's your preference."

"I said move, mouse!" the muskrat snarled. "Or I be movin' you meself."

"You can try it," I smirked and haughtily took a swig of my ale. "But you won't win."

Stupid muskrat pulled a knife. Fool.

Grabbing the scruff of his neck, I slammed his face into the bar, blood exploding from his snout and a hideous screech emulated from his throat. The dagger dropped from his paw and the daft creature stepped on it as he staggered backwards. Another howl echoed through the tavern.

"Hey!" Jake hollered and snatched a club from beneath the counter rapped it hard against the wood top. "Take it outside, mates!"

"Sure thing, Jaker!" one of my attacker's comrades sneered. "Be a pleasure!"

"Again, you can try," I laughed and pointed at the bleeding creature on the ground. "Want to join your friend."

"Outta me bar!" the squirrel yelled. "Outta 'ere or it be a club ta the head for all o' ya!"

"Not likely," the muskrat snorted and clapped a paw on my shoulder, as if he didn't hear the clear warning. "Let's go-oh!"

I slipped forward from my stool, twisting backwards to grab the collar of the creature and hauling him headfirst into the swing of the club as I dipped underneath it. Didn't think he'd have the sense to duck.

What happened next was a bit of a blur. I guess I had taken on some regulars. Some regulars with a whole bar of friends; or at least a whole bar with beasts with paws whose knuckles were in desperate need to crack my skull or jab me in the ribs. I ducked thrown stools, twisted away from bottle swings and blocked punches. Kicks, I didn't expect from any of them, being that most of them were too drunk to hold their balance long enough to do more than flick a paw, so a couple of those caught me off guard. Still, I was doing enough damage with my punches and elbows until I heard the familiar hiss of metal behind me.

Quickly, I unsheathed the sword, whirling it over my head and behind my back to strike the blade away before I spun around to face my attacker.

"Cowards attack from behind," I growled at an aonyx. I could feel my hackles rising at the confrontation and gripped my sword tighter in attempt to control the burning feeling swirling into my eyes. Behind me I could hear more beasts shuffling to circle me.

With a mocking laugh, I let my hood fall back, exposing my features; my strong jaw set, my scars to prove it wasn't the first time I had swung a blade… my red eyes. Blood pumped furiously through my veins as I curled a claw towards him in silent challenge.

I didn't expect him to come alone; no, I knew another would jump in with him. Maybe even two. But did expect _ten_ to jump at once? No.

Metal met metal, curse countered curse, snarl to growl, you get the image.

_Thrust, lunge, block, parry; duck, side step, cross body slash, whirl, downward chop._

My body went where my sword told it to go, how to move, who to strike. Still the odds were against me and, fighter's fog or not, I was thrown roughly against the bar by a pair of river otts for beasts to take punches at my ribs. I coughed violently as air was forced from my lungs, gasping for breath and suffering two more hits before I head-butted my hold to the right, freeing my sword paw so I hit to one on my left soundly in the back of the skull with hilt of my blade.

No longer a captive, I leaped into the crowd, determined to end what they started.

"Ten roomins to the beast who gets t'mouse outta me tavern!" Jake screamed from where he was now standing on the bar. "All o' you- jus' get 'im out!"

"Not fair odds, matey!" the booming voice of the captain snickered behind me. "Care t'even 'em up?"

I didn't acknowledge him, but I guess he took it as a yes, for the next thing I knew, he and his two crewbeasts were at my side, their blades drawn and ready, smiling even at the promise of a good fight ahead.

"It be jus' a good ol' brawl, mates," the sea otter chortled. "No deaths; jus' beats."

With a holler we charged the other beasts, slashing, fighting… _laughing_. Yes, the four of us were laughing, but for different reasons; me because I was winning, I could feel victory in my grasp; the otter called Oggin because he stepped on a puddle of gin and broken glass, irony has a funny bone I suppose; the other named Rover because he was just odd that way; and Captain Wayte because, well, to him this was a game, these creatures were his playthings.

Before I knew it, it was over and what beasts were left standing ran to the door to get the hell out of the place. Scattered around us were groaning and bleeding bodies, holding one body part or another in anguish. Broken chairs, tables hacked, busted ale kegs. Carnage everywhere. Before I forgot, I pulled my hood back up and over my eyes, taking deep breaths to quell their familiar flame. The fight was over, the battle won; I could go back to being, well, whatever beast I was back then.

"Out!" Jake screeched like a creature had grabbed his pair and twisted them. Angrily, he waved a heavy club at us. "Ta four o' ya- outta my tavern 'n don't ya e'er think 'bout comin' back! Out now 'r I'll, I'll…"

"Ya'll wha, Jake?" Captain Wayte laughed and pointed his cutlass in the squirrel's direction. "Don't tell me ya wanna 'ave a go, too?"

"OUT!" the barkeep yelled and hurled a tankard at me. _Me._ Like I had spoken the words. "And you!" he snarled. Huh, guess he did mean to throw it at me. "You git your sorry tail outta me tavern, me street- outta me Pelham 'fore we all run ya out!"

"Didn't you just try?" I said mockingly and let an almost wicked grin pull up the corners of my lips. "Didn't you just _lose?_"

The captain and his mates hooted at my declaration. It was rather bold, but I had just experienced a tavern brawl and won. Like not ordering Camomile Tea, what was I to do? Apologize? Ask for forgiveness? Not likely.

"This mouse be havin' larger nuts than ya do, Jake!" Captain Wayte replied for him and clapped me hard on the back. "I's be not makin' demands on 'im if I're ya."

"I was leaving anyways," I snipped, sheathing my sword and striding to the counter to chug the remainder of my drink which somehow had managed to stay upright through the fight. Hey, I paid for it; I wasn't going to waste it.

Stepping around the fallen and slumped creatures, I pushed the door open and strode out into the rain.

"Hey there, matey," Captain Wayte called to me. "W'ere ya be going?"

"Dunno," I snipped over my shoulder. It mattered to him because...?

"Hold fast, matey…"

"I'm not your _matey_…" I replied coldly. I don't know why I was being short with him; he had just fought with me against those other creatures, but I guess it just boiled down to the fact that I was, yet again, in the pouring rain, foamy ale in my gut and my stomach screaming for _real_ food. That and my mists hadn't totally cleared yet. I need to get anyway from everything so I could be alone. When I was alone, it was quiet and I could think of _her._ I didn't understand much about these red mists that frosted my eyes whenever I fought, but I knew one thing: Thinking of Rose always made them go away.

"No, ya ain't 'cuz if ya were, ya be treatin' yar Captain wit more respect."

I didn't answer and kept walking forward away from him.

"Ya be a good fighter," the captain continued, now striding out after me. " 'Aven't spied a creature wit talent like ya in quite some seasons."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I smiled.

"Criticism, actually," the otter smirked beneath his large brimmed hat and you could tell he resisted the urge to call me _matey_. "When I's said back there if ya wanted ta even ta odds, I's wasn't talkin' ta ya."

"You fought with me!" I gaped, insulted now.

"Ya, we's did," the otter winked. "Ta make sures ya didn't skewer ta lot of 'em.

"Ya got talent, mouse," he continued at my silence. "Talent that needs ta be trained ta be good."

"I'm fine," I snipped. What do you say to something like that anyway?

"Gotta place ta stay the night, mat- er, lad?"

"Nope."

"How be a dry hammock 'n a hot bowl o' soup sound ta ya?"

At the mention of food, my stomach growled louder than a wildcat. Traitor.

"I be thinking so," the Captain smirked at the sound. "Come to the ship 'n we'll git ya kitted up."

"Why?" I questioned suspiciously. "Why would you feed me and put me up for the night?"

"Cuz ya look like ya could need a paw," the sea otter said plainly and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Trainin' step number one; take a paw when wanted, lend a paw when needed."

"But you're a _pirate_," I retorted with a cocky snort. "Pirates don't lend paws."

"_Privateer_, matey," Wayte corrected me. "_Privateer_, not _pirate. Pri-va-teer._"

I eyed him warily for a moment, weighing my options. I could keep walking straight down the street in the _rain_, until I reached the trees and maybe found a semi-dry place to sleep; or go with the _pi-rivateer_ and sleep someplace dry with a full stomach. Wasn't really much of a debate now was it?

With a sigh, I spun on my heel and went back the otter and his crewbeasts.

"Smart choice," the otter winked. "Fights 'n has a brain. Dangerous combination that."

"I'm hungry," I said plainly and shook my head at my own frankness. I guess I was at the stage in my life where I'd be keeping my parents busy throwing me silencing glares, flicking my ears and stern name-calls. Luckily for both of them, they weren't around, so it was up to me to remind myself of my manners. I wasn't a complete rogue after all.

"I'm sorry," I apologized and held out my paw for a shake. "My name is Martin. Martin the Warrior."

"Captain Wayte Tydefell, at yar service," the otter replied with a wink and a quick bow. Pointing to his two companions he added, "Rover Drivelswigger and Oggin Swale; me first mates."

I gave each of them a nod and followed them back to the docks.

"Martin _the Warrior_, ya say?" Wayte mused and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How'd ya come by that title, matey? Ya seem a little young for something like that."

"Long story," I replied and waved it off like it was nothing. "And what about you- your name's really… _Wayte_?"

"Captain Wayte ta ya, matey."

"_Wayte_," I pressed with a smirk. This is why I don't usually joke. I start laughing at the punch line before I even start the jest. "Like as in _wayting_ for…"

"As in _wayting_ for that joke ta be funny 'ill end ya up a gray mouse," the otter snipped. "'N if ya're gonna be an arse 'bout me name, ya c'n stay out 'ere in t'rain!"

"No sir, Captain Tydefell," I replied respectfully. There was no way I was going to miss out on a meal because I couldn't hold my tongue. Besides, there was something about the captain that had me curious; we seemed too unlikely to have just happened upon each other. It was like we were supposed to meet for some reason.

The rain was coming down harder and we broke into a jog down the docks towards a large ship tied off at the stem and stern. The three otters trotted up the ramp, quick as you please, while I paused at the base. There was a part of me that held me back; it almost felt like guilt, but not really. I mean, my father was fighting _corsairs_, _vermin_ corsairs, not _privateers_. Why should I feel like I was betraying him when I really wasn't?

"Ya comin', Martin?" Wayte chuckled from over the railing. "Not scare o' an incline, are ya?"

"No, Captain," I smiled and without another thought, bound up the ramp towards my fate.

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	16. Descending Upwards: Part 4- Lesson One

**Thanks to Shadowed One 19 who reviewed the last chapter... as to the rest of you- where'd ya go? ;) hahaha**

**A/N: So, originally Captain Wayte was only supposed to take up 2 parts of Martin's time- we'll now you are going to get 3 of him (this being the second). Combining this chapter with the next one would be ridiculously long and lessen the points I am trying to make about Martin's character development... :P**

**Anyways, without further adieu- Part 4 of Descending Upwards...**

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**Descending Upwards: Part 4- Lesson One**

_"__Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."  
_-George R.R. Martin, _A Game of Thrones-_

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You can't imagine my surprise when I awoke the next morning by being rocked out of the hammock I was sleeping in and tossed about the floorboards of the orlop like I was being pushed and shoved about the fighter's ring by those bastardly Gawtrybe squirrels again. I must have rolled from port to starboard four times before it registered with me that I was still in Captain Wayte's ship- and that Captain Wayte's ship was now at sea.

I gathered myself as much as I could and half crawled to the ladder of the main hatch. Feebly, I climbed the wooden rungs, my previous sense of confusion now being roughly pushed aside by an overwhelming sense of nausea. I barely made it out of the hatch before I was forced to clap my paw over my mouth to run, scramble, stumble- whatever it is I did, over to the railing and heave all the contents of my previously enjoyed meal into the swirling sea below me. Taking a few deep breaths in a meek attempt to bring colour back to my face, I stared out over the waters to see Pelham, or what was a spec on the horizon that had been Pelham, bobbing away from me. I tried to focus on the land, trying to gage how far away it was and if I could swim the distance, but then the more I focused the more I realized I was flopping up and down, side to side, forward and back, all seemingly at the same time. My paws felt like they weren't truly on the deck boards and my head begun to spin wildly until I threw my upper body over the railing again and retched out any bodily fluid I could expel from my stomach.

Weak as a butterfly after a windstorm, I slouched down onto the deck, still gripping to the rungs of the railing as if I believed if I let go, I would bounce right off the pine and into the white caps below. I hadn't registered betrayal yet; all I could think about was the weakness of my muscles and the lumps of vomit threatening to rise further in my throat.

_Great Seasons make it stop, _I thought over and over in my mind. But that didn't stop me from puking twice more and falling onto the deck thoroughly exhausted. I recall closing my eyes and remembering my father telling me I wouldn't last three days on the high seas; he was right about that. At five seasons old, there was no way I could have endured this.

"Ah! Yar awake!" the captain's voice boomed from the quarter deck where he stood with Oggin at the wheel. "Ya be sleepin' in tis mornin', Martin!"

I opened my mouth to make a smart mouthed accusation at the otter, but instead of words, a large belch erupted from my throat and I wiggled on my belly to push my head between the railing poles in anticipation of another expulsion. Luckily, it didn't come.

After a round of hearty laughter from every beast aboard the ship, I heard a pair of heavy paws step up behind me. I didn't move. I felt like I was going to die and having my head thrust out of the rungs like I was gave the Fates a clean shot at my neck. Oh Fates, if they ever had a merciful thought, they would have used it on my then. But as I am still alive to tell you this, you can tell, they didn't. They always did like my line to suffer.

"You alright, mate?" Rover said with as much chuckle out of his voice as he had in it. When I didn't respond, he nudged me slightly with his footpaw. "Mate?"

I just groaned.

"You gotta get up off the boards, Mart," Rover said plainly and I bet he crossed his paws over his chest. "Decks gotta be swabbed."

Again, I just groaned in my misery.

"Get up!" Rover yelled and hoofed me in the gut as hard as he could. I coughed and sputtered curses under my breath before the otter grabbed me by my collar and pulled me up to my footpaws. "Get walking, Mart!" he ordered me and pointed to the foremast. "One mast to the other- only way you're going to be getting your seapaws is if you learn to walk with the sea!"

"I-I…" I tried to talk, but my throat filled up with bile and I went to retch over the rail again, but Rover snatched me by the nose and lifted my face skywards. Images of vomit exploding from my mouth and falling back unto my face entered my mind just as he clapped his paw over my nostrils and I was forced to gasp for air through my mouth. To my utter surprise, the lumps of bile and phlegm fell back to my stomach with my breaths.

"Try not to retch," the otter chuckled and gave me a shove towards the mast. "Two passes. And if you don't puke- you can have a sip of water."

"I'm not supposed to be at sea," I muttered as I staggered to the mast, my arms held out around me for balance and mock support. "Why am I on this bloody wooden…"

"Look up, Mart!" Rover shouted. "Deep breaths and don't retch!"

"Rover be right, matey!" Wayte called from the helm, laughter ringing in every syllable of his tone. "Ya puke on me deck, 'n ya'll be moppin' it up!"

"This is your fault!" I yelled back angrily and held my stomach against another rumbling belch. "I never said I wanted to go to sea- why am I here? Why didn't you-" I paused a moment to look up at the sails and let my breaths push the bile down again. "-Why didn't you wake me up, or throw me ashore or… _something!_"

"This be _something_, as ya put it," Wayte snorted through his nose and pointed a weathered paw at me. "'Sides, matey- ya ne'er said ya didn't _want_ ta come o'long."

"But, but you never asked me!" I countered and gripped the foremast with both paws as I stumbled into the wooden spire.

"I's be tellin' ya ta rules first off, Martin."

"Did not! You just said something about take a paw when wanted or lend a paw when needed, or something like that…"

"Aye, I did!" Wayte hollered and laughed so hard at me I thought he would topple off the railing and onto the deck. I would have given my left ear to have that happen when the next words came out of his mouth.

"Aye, be telling ya that for a reason, Martin," Wayte continued once his hooting quelled to a soft chuckle. "I be lending ya a paw, cuz ya needed one, but I also be takin' a paw cuz I wanted one. Ya see how it works?"

"You lying, dishonest, backstabbing…" I snarled and pushed myself off the foremast in his direction. My nausea was completely forgotten as I strode across the deck, growling curses and kicking over wash buckets from the swabbers as I went. Standing below the quarter deck, I crossed my paws over my chest defiantly and stared at him as hard as I could.

"You're a thief!"

"Yes," the captain replied with a smirk. My paws clenched into fists in hopes of punching the curl right off his lips.

"You're a no-good, bilge-drinking…"

"Now, matey, don't ya go insulting _Kailani_," Wayte laughed. "She not be taking on bilge!"

"Take me back to port!" I demanded.

"Not yet."

"Why?" I snapped and held my paws out wide in exasperation. I couldn't believe what was happening; I was a prisoner… again. A prisoner to the very creature that feed me, gave me a blanket to sleep with, praised my fighting skills; a prisoner a beast that claimed every one of his crew was a _free_ otter and they never took a grain of salt from a creature that couldn't spare it. Wayte had stressed that they were not corsairs, but privateers; privateers that sailed the seas keeping woodlanders safe from the raids of vermin.

"Because there be another place ya need to go," Wayte said in a calm voice. "But ya not be ready t'go 'ere yet.

"Like I's said in Pelham, matey- ya be a good fighter, but ya need training. Training on how ta fight, how ta think, how to take back what be yours…"

"I've done all that!" I shouted. "Turn back to land and let me go!"

"I's will take ya land when ya c'n tell me who ya are, Martin."

"You know who I am!"

"Aye, but ya don't."

"W-well…" I huffed and searched for words lost from my tongue. "Ah! I know who I am! Now turn to land!"

"If ya knew who ya were, ya wouldn't 'ave needed me ta make ya angry ta find ya seapaws," Wayte smirked at me and I glanced about myself in realization I was standing without support, without looking up at the sails and without that twisted feeling in my stomach.

"You made me angry… I-I just forgot about my sickness…"

"Was it?" Wayte chortled and leaned over the railing to look at me square in the eye. "O' was it ta fact ya wanted t'kill me for takin' ya freedom 'n 'ere not be nothin' ta could stand in yar way- not even yar body wantin' t'fold itself inside out wit seasickness?"

"I didn't try kill you," I sighed and looked around to notice the crew had gone quiet and were all staring at me. I knew enough from stories that conspiring to kill a captain was considered mutiny, and mutiny on a ship was just death for the ringleader. Even with my sword at my side (which was below deck with my cloak under my hammock), I didn't stand a chance against a whole crew of battle hardened sea otters. That much I knew.

"I didn't want to _kill_ you," I reiterated. "I challenged you."

"Oh, be that what that was?" Wayte mocked and let his head fall back in a single bolt of laughter. "'N how'd that work out fer ya?"

"You're not turning the ship around, now are you?" I snipped back, frustrated in my defeat.

"No, I's not," the captain said plainly. Striding across the quarter deck, he ordered the crew back into action and bounded down the steps to bring himself up before me. I looked up at him; the sun would have blinded me, but for his large brim hat. Guess he wore it for a reason after all.

"Know why ya lost, matey?" Wayte asked me after a few moments silence. "Why ya lost ta challenge?"

"Because you were on the wheel and I was holding my stomach," I jabbered out before I could stop myself.

"Well, that be just logistics," Wayte waved off and I could tell he was fighting back yet another laugh at me. "But what stopped ya from challengin' me further- what stopped ya from wantin' t'kill me."

"Ten paces of lumber," I snorted and motioned to the height of the quarter deck from the main.

"Naw, Martin, stop bein' a smart-mouthed blighter," the captain replied. "Ya just avoidin' ta question with a waggin' tongue. Now, answer ta question, serious-like. I's wants ta know what stopped ya from climbin' those steps afta me."

"I…" I paused for a moment and thought. I didn't have an answer. It was my life he was _taking_ yet, I didn't have enough will to fight for it.

"Cuz ya didn't 'ave a cause, Martin," Wayte smiled and laid a heavy paw on my shoulder. "'N before ya 'ave a cause, ya need t'know who y'are 'n what ya fight fer.

"I's asked ya if ya knew who ya were," the captain continued. "By yar reaction, I's 'ave ta say ya don't fully know yet. But ya will, Martin. Ya'll be findin' yarself."

I just closed my eyes against the situation, naively thinking that when I opened them, this would all be over.

"Why did you take me?" I asked in a hushed voice. "Couldn't you just have told me this on land and sent me on my way?"

"Cuz ta truly find yarself, ya need t'be outta yar element, matey," Wayte laughed. "On land ya c'n pull that cloak o'er yar eyes 'n pretend t'be ta warrior ya say ya are, but out 'ere," he paused a moment to motion to the sea around us. "Not so easy now is it?"

"I'm still a warrior. What difference would it make whether or not I have dirt beneath my paws?"

"Cuz on land, ya say yar a warrior 'n e'ery beast 'ill give ya a wide berth," the sea otter snickered and turned away from me to literally illustrate my insignificance. "But out 'ere, no beast gives a fike who ya say y'are. They on'y care what ya c'n do wit a blade in yar paws."

"You make no sense!" I yelled in frustration. "You talk in circles- you know I can fight!"

"Aye- but what d'ya fight fer?" Wayte said angrily and wheeled on me like I had just threatened to cut off his rudder. "Tell me, Martin- what d'ya fight fer 'n I be knowin' who y'are. So- what d'ya fight fer?"

"I-I, I don't know yet!"

"Exactly," the otter sighed and held his paws wide. "Now- see ta Rover 'n he'll assign ya some duties. No freepaws aboard _Kailani_."

"Ruddy otter probably doesn't even know himself who he is," I grumbled under my breath as I turned away. "I know who I am; I'm Martin the Warrior, son of Luke…"

"I's be a privateer, matey," Wayte proclaimed from halfway up the steps. I didn't turn around to see him, but I'm sure he could picture the astonished look on my face that he actually heard my muttering over all the sounds of the ship and sea. "I's be a privateer, sailing as a freebeast ta protect those along t'eastern coast from the vermin scum that raid it.

"I's take what I c'n get, when I's c'n get it 'n I give back ta those beasts in need," Wayte continued. "I's fight when I 'ave ta 'n drink when I may. I sail me crew up 'n down ta seaboard keepin' ta troubles at bay so creatures like ya c'n push ta scum already 'ere back from w'ere they came. That be who I am, Martin."

I was silent. Turning around I looked the sea otter in the eyes as he stood proudly before me. Through his entire speech he had not once said his own name. His sire's name. He didn't even mention his captaincy. Slowly, I came to realize what he meant by his words I thought were just roundabout phrases of him trying to sound important; but that wasn't what he trying to do at all.

Wayte was right, it didn't matter who you said you were. It mattered what you did. It mattered what you did things for and it mattered why you did them. Your title meant nothing. Actions spoke louder than words and at that moment I realized all I had were words. I didn't have a cause worth fighting for; I didn't know why I fought. All I had was a name and for the next three seasons I strove to put meaning behind that name. Once I had my meaning, I could find my cause. But not yet. No, I wasn't ready yet. But I would be, one day.

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	17. Descending Upwards: Part 5- Decisions

**Special thanks to Saraa Luna and Jade Tealeaf (who has finally caught up on her reviewing!) for the reviews of the last chapter! As a special treat to all, I will post the last two parts of Descending Upwards at the same time. Please read them together as they were originally meant to be one chapter, but for obvious word counts, had to be split into two separate segments...**

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**Descending Upwards: Part 5- Decisions**

_""__Where should I go?" -Alice.  
"That depends on where you want to end up." - The Cheshire Cat."_  
-Lewis Carroll, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass_-

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I sat on the yard arm of the mainmast, my footpaws dangling over either side of the timber and my back pressed up against the mast as I watched the corsair galley loom before us with a confident expression many mistook for indifference. Below me, Captain Wayte was yelling commands to the crew while Rover and Oggin organized what would be our assault.

"Give 'em a volley o' fire arrows!" Wayte shouted from the quarterdeck as he turned the helm to close in on our prey. I sighed and closed my eyes. If Wayte was calling for arrows we were a hundred paces off the bow. Seasons, I almost had time for a nap.

In my mind I counted to twenty and held up my index claw of my right paw and giving it a flick as the sound of speeding fletch and twanging bowstrings huffed through the air. It was at that point I started counting to fifty. _One, two, three…_

In the distance I could hear the oar drums and odd whiplash, and my paw instinctively went to my sword hilt to ensure its presence. _Twenty-eight, twenty-nine…_

"Another volley!" Wayte yelled and I heard his own cutlass being drawn from its scabbard, while he spun the wheel round starboard to bring _Kailani_ up beside the galley. _Thirty-five…_

I heard the snarls and the spits from the vermin. I heard the waves pounding between the two vessels as the waters ricochet between the hulls. It was almost time. _Forty-one, forty-two…_

At forty-five, I opened my eyes again and grasped the long hemp rope at my side to pull myself to my footpaws. I stood for two more counts to quickly assess the vermin ship below me and the angle Wayte had us at to better make my attack, before jumping off the arm and slipping down the rope with the skill of a salted sailor. My footpaws hit the deck boards and I shoved my way in front of the crew to stand on the side rail as my mind hit my count. _Fifty…_

_ "__Keep yarself calm afore t'battle, Martin," Wayte instructed me through my training lessons. "Don't let yarself git all stirred up afore there be need ta. Keep yar mind on the battle, but don't let yar heart git inta it until ya have no way out. Think about yar movements 'n those mist o' yars be kept at bay. Ya don't need 'em until there be no turning back…"_

_"__For sail and seas!"_ the crew of sea otters shouted and together we took once last look at the scum in front of us before leaping across the thin span of sea between us. Amid the pockets of flames, I landed aboard the galley, ducking under a sabre and unsheathing my sword in one motion to slice the weasel across his belly as I rose to my full height again. Intestines and organs slathered onto the blackened oak as the vermin went down, gapping in disbelief that he would be dead in mere moments. Without a second thought I moved onto the next beast in my path; a stoat with one eye and a blunt blade. It only took a single thrust to the gut to kill him.

I moved across the galley deck whirling my blade and maiming each corsair that came within reach, all the while voices from my training lessons echoed in my mind.

_"__Make each strike count!" Wayte bellowed at me as I sparred with Rover across the main deck of _Kailani_. "Kill t'vermin quick 'n move onta the next. One move, mayhap two, t'en move on…"_

_"__If I go down, mate, don't follow!" Oggin laughed and hopped over my blade swing. "If I go down- ya go up! Make me block ya an' put me back on me heels…"_

Forward I pressed across the galley, ducking under cutlass swings and dodging spear thrusts. Slowly, I worked my way to towards the hatch. If I could get to the hatch, I could slip in and free the oarslaves. It was kind of my unspoken job so-to-speak. I always went for freeing the slaves first, and then when that was done, I went after the captain if Wayte didn't already finish him off by the time I go there. I kept my mind focused on the task before me, keeping my mind in the battle and holding my heart and my bloodwrath at bay.

_"__Ya 'ave no vendetta wit t'vermin," Wayte cautioned me as I angrily clutched to the railing of the ship after my first sea battle. "Then they not be worth yar wrath, Martin. They just scum, not Hellspawn t'ya. Save yar blood fer when ya really need it- when it counts…"_

Smoke billowed around me and I coughed at the chalky taste and heavy air that stuck in my lungs. Orange flames licked at my fur and jerkin, singeing them and blackening my appearance until I was nothing but a small creature of black soot, shining red blood and silver white steel.

Around me I could hear the privateers' laughs of assured victory. I could even feel my own smile curl my lips when I kicked a worthless rat off the end of my blade and came up in front of Rover and not another vermin. It seemed the battle was all but won until Oggin shouted from the stern.

"Wayte!" the otter shrieked. "Wayte- another galley! _A ramming bar!"_

I spun around on my heel and saw a ship off the starboard heading straight for us; a large iron bowsprit aimed right at us… at the corsair ship we were standing on. Bastardly vermin didn't care if they killed their own kind as long as they took us down with them.

"Fletcher- 'ard t'port!" Wayte bellowed and rallied the crew around him. "E'ery beast ta the ship- ta _Kailani_- NOW!"

"The oarslaves!" I shouted and ducked beneath a sabre strike from my right and striking the fool of a ferret twice in the head with my pommel to stun him before making a double-pawed swing to slice him open from shoulder to groin. I had to get to those slaves and cut them free. If the other galley rammed the ship, they would be drowned along with the wreckage. If I could at least get them free they could swim…

Trotting my way to the hatch, I made the last to steps in one bound, leaping into the air and pulling my sword in front of me with my tip pointed down as I feel into the darkness of the hull; anything that was coming up the hatch ladder was going to meet with my blade first.

I vaguely recall hearing my name shouted above me and the thunderous sounds of footpaws scrambling above deck, but all of it blurred into the instant motions I was forced into by two slave masters which happened on me as soon as I landed on in the dim hold.

I let a whip coil around my left arm to block the lash strike meant for my face and pulled the vermin in for a head butt. There was a sickening crack when our skulls met and I quickly ran him through with my sword. Shoving the body away from me, I felt cold steel slash across my back and I felt my skin slip open like a tear in a maid's silk shift. I twisted away with my arching back, bringing my sword up at head height and down onto the rat's arm. There was a surprised scream and then nothing as I brought my blade back up and across his neck.

_"__Hold true ta yar course 'n yar course be true t'ya." _

Wayte's words echoed in my mind as I tried to control the red fringing my vision and the strength quivering in my paws while I struck the chain links holding the captives to their oars; over and over again I hit the iron, beasts cringing from the sparks that were produced from my swinging sword. Then I heard the clank of a clink breaking and a pitiful cheer emulated from the four creatures it held.

_One._

Another growl sounded behind me and a whirled around to begin another fight with a stoat pushing him into a quick spar before stabbing him threw the neck and hammering down on another chain link in my follow through.

_Two._

I was just starting on the third link when I heard a sickening crunch of wood and splintered timbers before an iron spike thrust itself through the side of the ship, skewering ten oarslaves in its intrusion. The sight of the impaled bodies caused my eyes to go wide and I clenched my jaw shut to deny air and consequently bile an escape from my mouth. Screams from the remaining slaves resonated off the sides off the hull. Screams and the sound of rushing water.

"Seasons help us!" yelled a squirrel who was tugging on his wrist shackle when the water started lapping on his footpaws. "We're all gonna die!"

"You're not!" I shouted and slopped through the cold seawater to continue my rescue attempt. Most of the beasts I had already set free had either scurried up to the main deck, but there was an otter that stayed below, taking up the stoat's cutlass and started slashing at the chains as well.

We were on our last chain when a familiar voice found my ears. "Martin!"

Looking up I saw Rover leap down into the waist deep water of the hold and pull the oarslaves towards the ladder.

"Martin- c'mon, mate- we can't hold the other ship… we need to go!"

"I can't leave them here!" I shouted, but I knew it was for naught. I couldn't use my sword anymore in the water's depth and as it was the creatures were barely able to keep their faces above water to breath. My new found otter companion gave me a sympathetic look and glanced back at the further slave from us scream air bubbles out from below the water.

"Can't save 'em whole," he muttered and skewed his face as if resisting vomit. Before I could respond, he took a breath and dove beneath the water. Within seconds the water around me was red and five beasts bobbed to the surface screeching and holding a pawless arm. Instinct drove me to sheath my sword and haul two of them back towards Rover by their collars before collecting the others with the otter. Together the three of us pushed the crying slaves up the rungs and into the fires of the flaming galley. The ship was breaking up around us as we fled towards _Kailani_, fighting our way through the throngs of fresh corsairs and coughing against the black smoke. I stood with Rover as the oarslaves crawled across the board placed between the ships to aid in our escape, watching the vermin advance.

"Over you go, Martin!" Rover said quickly and pointed across the board. "Get going!"

I didn't hesitate and jumped aboard the plank to slide my way gingerly across the slippery wood. Once I was safely aboard _Kailani_, the wood thumped down behind me from a throw and I saw Rover sprint towards the mast of the galley, drawing his paw axes and chopping relentlessly at the smouldering wood.

"Rover!" I screamed from the railing and Oggin wrapped a paw around my body to pull me back.

"He's makin' sure we gits away, mate," Oggin said with a voice rough with emotion. "Rover's makin' sure those vermin have somet'ing ta worry 'bout save us…"

"But how…" I started to question before I saw the sea otter throw all his weight into the half chopped beam and push the blazing mast onto the ramming vessel. We all gave a hastened cheer of victory, but it was short lived as the weakened galley buckled and cracked, breaking in two and retching itself into the turbulent sea.

Sparks flew into the air from the updrafts and steam from the fires meeting the waves rose in great billows around us. Captain Wayte shoved creatures aside as he pushed his way up the steps to the wheel, spinning it around paw over paw in a desperate attempt avoid our sails sparking or the ship getting pulled into the suction of the sinking hunk of waterlogged boards.

"Full canvas 'n pull t'staysail!" the captain ordered from the helm once he had _Kailani_ hard over. "Haul those ropes 'n float ta sails!"

The crew sprang into action around me, climbing the riggings and tying off lines. The oarslaves we rescued huddled in a group by the back cabins while Darren, the ship's cook and surgeon, started attending to their wounds. Slowly, I felt the ship respond to Wayte's commands, dipping over the wakes and away from the cracking wood and hollering vermin. Away from the sinking ship and the sucking noises of the Fates taking their victims; away from…

"Rover!" I yelled, throwing myself to the railing as I watched to sea otter break the surface of the water and start to swim frantically about the burning timbers and pieces of masts. "Rover- swim to the ship!"

"Rover!" Oggin called from behind me. "Rover- o'er 'ere!"

We watched him paddle about the water as if trying to get his bearings and bump into a section of deck. It was like he couldn't see the ship. It's like he couldn't see at all.

Oggin and I watched as a wave crashed over him and he came up sputtering and coughing. Another crashed over him and we saw the barrels from the ship's stores roll with the waters, but this time Rover's face didn't break the surface, just the back of his shoulders.

Without a thought I jumped to the railing and leapt into the sea, taking a deep breath before I pommeled down into the waves, crashing below the surf and letting the chill of the waters shock me into opening my eyes. Salt burned my eyelids and I kicked for the surface as hard as I could. My sword weighed me down and the pull from the sinking vessel grasped at my footpaws with watery fingers, but with each kick I pushed them away and broke the surface with a tremendous gasp for air. All around, pieces of wood burned and smoked, making it almost impossible to see anything over the rise and fall of the sea.

_"__No mat'er how impossible it seem- ne'er give up," Wayte said firmly. "There be a beast countin' on ya ta succeed. What ya do can be life 'r death fer a creature… ne'er give up."_

_Never give up_, I reiterated in my mind and swam about the timbers, swatting at them and burning my paws. I didn't feel the pain until I saw Rover and clasp my paws around his body, hauling him face up and gripping his chest with my blistered palms. Blood flowed from my lip where I bit down against the hurt and I pulled the otters body up onto mine as I tried to float us both. But between my own soaked body and sword with the weight of the burly sea otter, I couldn't hold us and I was pushed down below the waters. Air escaped the corners of my mouth in ginormous bubbles and I forced my legs to kick for the surface again.

A wave pressed a broken oar up against my back and I wrapped my left paw around it to keep us afloat. I could hear the muffled sounds of beasts calling us through my water-filled ears and I gave Rover two hard squeezes across the ribs with my right arm. To my utter relief the otter gave a single cough before flopping against me again. He was unconscious, but at least he was alive.

I glanced over my shoulder to see _Kailani's_ stern pushing away from us and I felt a moment of panic and defeat before I spied the crew hauling up the sails to still the ship's forward motion. They were holding fast for us. I just had to get us there. With great effort I started to swim us towards our ship, grunting in exertion and realizing with every stroke how exhausted I was and how far the ship still was.

_"__T'ere'll be a time when it seem hopeless," Wayte grinned as pushed against my sword when our hilts locked in a spar. "When all sense is gone 'n ya could jus' lay down 'n die- ba ya don't. Ya don't give in ta the Fates, cuz what cause be won like that?"_

I continued to kick, my body was screaming from effort, every fibre of my muscles tearing with my very movements. Every third kick a wave lapped over us, leaving me spurting and coughing against the brief loss of air. I could feel my body starting to give in as my mind whispered words of defeat into my drunken ears and my limbs began to believe them, but though my mind was telling me it was hopeless, my heart was telling me to keep going; to not lay down and die. My blood that had started to chill with the idea of death begun to pump furiously through my veins again and I felt a renewed sense of strength, striking out with my footpaws again like I had thrust my sword into turned up sands to haul myself up against my enemy again. Red mists clouded my vision as I fervently clung to that piece of splintered wood and Rover, and kicked as hard as I could back to _Kailani_.

"It's alright, Rover," I whispered hoarsely to the insentient beast in my grasp. "It's alright. I've still got ya…"

I could hear the calls and shouts from the ship as I swam us forward, trying my best to keep Rover's face on my shoulder and my shoulder above water. I had to get him to the ship. Above the roar of the sea I heard Captain Wayte's rough voice and could barely make out the form of some beast climbing down the ship of the ship in my blurred vision of reddened seawater.

"Reach, mate!" Wayte yelled and held out his paw from the hull rigging when I was coming within range. "Martin- reach!"

"Take Rover!" I called with a growl and pushed the unconscious otter towards the ship as a wave splashed over my head, carrying the body just far enough for Wayte to grab. I spat out a mouthful of water from the next wave that washed over me and I gasped the briny air into my lungs.

"Hold on, Martin!" Oggin shouted from the deck. "Wayte'll get ya- hold on!"

Grimly gripping onto my piece of wood, I watched as Wayte heaved Rover's body over his shoulder and began climbing back up to the deck. Seeing Rover safely aboard the ship, my blood started to slow; my battle was won and my cause complete- my bloodwrath could let go. Another wave pommeled over my head; then another, and another. At this point I had stopped kicking- my footpaws and legs were too cold. For all I could feel, a fish could have bitten them off.

"Doonnn't lleeettt goooo o o oo…" I heard drawled out from above me as my grip on the oar loosened and I slipped into the water up to my chin. I remember thinking to myself that was it; I was dying. I couldn't feel my body, I couldn't hear, my vision was too blurred and all I taste was salt water as it filled my mouth when another lap of water beat against my body. This time, I didn't spit it out. This time, I didn't gasp for air. This time, I let go.

* * *

**I hope it wasn't too confusing with the italicized flashbacks of Martin's training with Wayte. I wanted to show how he became such a calm fighter from the ragin loon he was at Marshank and even to a point in his bar fight. And I hope you can see some similarities between this Martin and the Martin we know from Mossflower... Anyways, please read part six along with this!**


	18. Descending Upwards: Part 6- Who I Am

**Please make sure to read the end notes on this one! Oh- AND there's a poll on my profile know for you to vote on your favourite narrator; yes, I know there are two still to come after this this, but I'm curious to see who's the forerunner...**

**Oh and DISCLAIMER: There are "quotes/excerpts" taken from Brian Jacques' _The Legend of Luke_ and _Mossflower_ throughout this chapter. You'll probably recognize them.**

* * *

**Descending Upwards: Part 6- Who I Am**

_"__Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth."_  
-Homer, _The Iliad-_

* * *

I woke up naked as a babe beside the small fire in the ship's kitchen wrapped in three or four blankets. My entire body throbbed. My eyes burned and my lungs felt like they were on raw inside. I couldn't command my dry mouth to make words, but I could get my throat to groan. 'Gates, did I groan.

"Oh ho! Ya be awake!" Darren barked a single laugh and stopped his chopping to sit beside me on a stool. "Captain Wayte'll be relieved!"

I pushed myself up onto my elbows only to fall back down on the floor again. Darren chuckled and took a ladle of water from the barrel and held it out for me to drink.

"Rover," I rasped out after my second ladle of drink. "Rover…"

"Is alive thanks t'ya!" Darren chortled and gave me a wink. "Bad bump on his head and a nasty cut 'cross his eyes, but 'ee be no worse fer ware. B'ween the two o' ya, ya be heroes!"

"Maybe Rover," I groaned out and used every ounce of abdominal strength to pull me into a sitting position. "Rover saved us from the other corsairs. I just pulled him from the water."

"An' tha oarslaves," the otter replied with a wink. "Don't sell yaself short, mate."

"Where is Rover?"

"Restin' in the orlop," Darren said plainly and got up to go back to his chopping. "Captain Wayte's orders are ya t'go ta him once ya wake up."

"How'd I get back onboard?" I questioned and took the clean shirt and tunic Darren offered me. "Last thing I remember is being in the water and…"

"The captain dove in 'afer ya, mate," the otter chuckled as I grimaced pulling the shirt over my head. Damn, I forgot about the slash I took across the back and though it was bandaged, I had bled into the linen and every motion pulled on the cut. I continued to listen half-heartedly to Darren as he recounted my rescue; something about me going under, Wayte diving in from the railing (after he tossed his hat aside of course), finding me and dragging my battered body up the rigs and laying me flat on my back. My ears pricked at the words- "ya weren't breathin'" and "pushin' on ya chest" then…

"He did _WHAT?"_ I gaped and immediately crawled my half-clothed body to the water barrel, taking ladles of water, swishing, gurgling and spitting it into the waste bucket.

"Gave ya a right ol' kiss on t'lips!" Darren roared with laughter at my reaction. "Breathed some air inta yar lungs, pounded on ya chest a few m'ere times, then locked lips with ya 'gain," he added all too enjoyably with a wink. "Afer tha third kiss, yar started breathin' thanks t'yar 'andsome prince!"

By this point I had moved on from water to gin. Something had to kill the distaste and horror in mouth after all; or at least block the mental image I had in my mind.

"Now, Martin-" the otter chuckled and took away the gin bottle from me. "Unless, yar toastin' t'yar life ya not be needin' that. Don't wanna end up the way we found ya in Kenelsbu…"

"No!" I blurted out, cutting his sentence short and adjusted my belt around my waist. "Where's the captain?"

"In 'is cabin chartin'. Go on- he be _waytin'_ fer ya."

* * *

Darren was right. Wayte was in his cabin, leaning over a mess of maps and nautical instruments that littered his table, pausing only briefly from his calculations to welcome me in and point to a chair by the window. He offered me a beaker of rum, I declined. He smirked. We both knew why.

"Darren tells me I owe you my life," I said quietly in the silence that followed. Wayte spared a moment to look up at me. "Thank-you, Captain."

"Naw, Martin, ya woulda done t'same fer any o' us," Wayte scoffed and tapped a claw on his compass. "Ya _did_ do ta same fer us- ya pulled Rover outta certain death."

I nodded. I suppose I had saved Rover and though it was nothing I thought miraculous, I wasn't going to deny it. There was another silence between us and Wayte walked the twin-legged spikey thing he used to measure distances across the map for three 'strides' before dropping it and snorting into laughter.

"What's so funny?" I gaped at him.

"We's gotta put more inta port fer ya!" Wayte chortled and looked up at me. "Maids in Kenelsburg 'ave low standards if they be leavin' ya wit t'grins they did if ya kiss'd 'em like that!"

"Like what?" I gasped, letting my jaw drop and my entire body turn as red as a fall apple. Wayte just laughed harder at me and slapped his rudder on the floor. "And you can't bring up… I wasn't myself in Kenels… Wayte, that's not fair- I can't defend myself against something I can't remember!"

"Naw, ya can't," the sea otter chuckled and winked at me. "Don't make it anee less funny, though."

"And you can't judge my ki…" I hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. "My kissing ability. I was unconscious and you're a-a male…"

"Praise t' Seasons ya c'n tell the difference!" he hooted and I folded my arms crossly over my chest. Here I was telling the sully sea otter a thank-you from death and he was making fun of my… ah, never mind. It wasn't anything I was proud of anyway. I was dead drunk, I was completely inexperienced, and _they_ weren't _her_.

"Ah- Martin, git a sense o' humour," Wayte said and waved me off. "It just be t'kiss o' life. Nothing any o' the rest o' the lot here hasn't gotten afore ya. I wouldn't 'ave a crew left if there not be some trading spit e'ery now 'n then when t'Seasons call fer it. Now, thanks be accepted."

I gave a little chuckle and rose to my footpaws to look down at the charts. "Where are we headed to now?"

"I's need supplies 'n a place t'put these oarslaves ya set free," Wayte said plainly like he hadn't just spent the better of our conversation making fun of me. "'Sides, it be the third moon o' tha Season in four days, so there be on'y one place I be headed."

Wayte tapped a paw on the map at the spot where their appeared to be a set of bluffs jetting out from the mainland. Further down the coast, around the point at the southern tip, was a city and a scrolling name of _Carminack_.

"Why not put in to port at the city?" I questioned.

"'N risk us all gittin' tossed inta brigs?" Wayte chuckled. "Naw, Martin, we's not too well liked in _Carminack_."

"So what's at the bluffs? A town?"

Wayte just laughed. "Naw, jus' a little rendezvous."

"With who?"

"Me sister," Wayte smirked proudly and stretched up to go to his bed and pull out a chest from beneath it. I watched quietly as he dug through what must have been his own personal items, before he let out a breath of victorious laughter and carried a little trinket in his paws back to the table. Handing it to me, he proclaimed with a delighted smile; "Me sister. Aerwyna Eire Tydefell, t'pearl o' the Southern Sea."

I looked down at the portrait to see a young ottermaid dressed in a soft green gown that matched her eyes. She was a beauty of an otter that was for sure, though her eyes sparkled with adventure and mischief.

"This is your sister," I said in mock disbelief.

"Yes," Wayte replied and took the picture back from me. "Painted jus' afore her weddin'. I guess she not be a Tydefell anee m'ere, but a Stalwallows. Married a general in ta Southern Armies she did."

"The Southern Armies?"

"Yes, mate," Wayte said in a curious tone at my pricked attention. "A great army t'fights vermin onta mainland."

"I see," I said slowly, my mind turning with the idea of a cause… a cause I had been searching for. As valiant an effort Wayte and the crew made at ridding the seas of corsair scum, the idea of fighting on land always pulled my attention. I preferred standing with my footpaws in the dirt while I fought my enemies as oppose to standing on the deckings. I had never told any beast that, but judging by the knowing look on Wayte's face, he knew that.

"I's meet wit Aerwyna e'ery third moon o' the season at ta bluffs, 'cept in ta winter when t'army be all comfy-like in ta barracks," Wayte offered up without any prompting from me. "She meets me wit stores 'n supplies fer me voyages 'n I gives her anee beasts that wants t'join their _cause_. Aerwyna makes sure they make it t'Carminack 'n givin' jobs 'r places in t'army."

I nodded. I was intrigued. Perhaps, this was my cause, something I could dedicate myself to; something to make _her_ proud of me.

"Y'ave learned o'lot o'er ta past seasons, matey," Wayte said to me and thumped a heavy paw on my shoulder. "Ya figur'd out who y'are yet?"

"Perhaps," I said with a smirk on my face and I tapped my finger on the bluffs drawn on the map. "Four days will tell."

* * *

We arrived at the bluffs a day early and anchored off the north head until on the fourth night a fire was lit on the beach.

"There be Aerwy's beacon!" Wayte exclaimed excitedly and ordered a long boat to be dropped into the water. "Rover- ya 'ave ta wheel. Oggin, Martin, Lief, Condor, Trimpet- ya be wit me."

I stood with Wayte at the front of the boat while the four otters rowed us ashore. A mixture of anticipation and dread filled my thoughts. Here was a path before me, a path to a cause that would give my life some sort of meaning, but yet there was something… wrong. This whole meeting seemed… wrong. There was an emptiness about the air, a hollow feeling like- like a heart being ripped out of a beast's chest. I knew it. I recognized it. I knew I never wanted to feel it again.

The boat scrapped up onto the sands and I saw a large stack of boxes and crates, barrels and haversacks of supplies. The fire was lit with driftwood and holed up against the rocks so not to cast any shadows of any of us on the shore. Wayte's sister was a smart one. Some of the most seasoned war or sea creatures alike wouldn't be that thorough.

"Aerwy!" Wayte laughed as he jumped from the boat and strode across the beach to a tall creature in a dark cloak. I remember thinking she must have been a tall maid, but, don't ask me why I did it, but I looked down at her footpaws and gaped at the absence of dress skirts.

"Wayte- no!" I shouted and leapt over the side just as the creature posing as the captain's dear sister pulled back the cloak hood to reveal himself as a sturdy male sea otter.

"Marc!" Wayte gasped and drew his cutlass and clenched his teeth into a snarl. Behind me, Oggin, Lief, Condor and Trimpet followed suit, drawing their weapons and coming up behind the captain. Out of the shadows of the rocks six other otters in uniform walked confidently up behind the cloak figure and stood waiting command. The silence was heavy on my ears and I narrowed my eyes in anticipation of a fight, but I didn't draw my sword. I held my patience. I held my ground.

"Betrayal, Marc Stalwallows!" Wayte growled at him and whipped the air with his blade. "Ya brought yar guard wit ya- Seasons o' keepin' those bastardly vermin off yar shores 'n tis is how ya repay me?"

"I haven't betrayed you, Wayte," the otter named Marc replied calmly. "The army is not here- just my bodyguards. Pull yours back and I'll do the same. I need to talk to…"

"Where be Aerwyna?" the captain demanded. "Where be me sister?"

"Aerwyna isn't coming," the otter said sadly and I saw tears glaze his eyes. I had seen eyes like that before in my own reflection. But Wayte hadn't. He didn't see them.

"What d'ya mean, ain't coming? She meets me 'ere e'ery…"

"Every third moon of the season," Marc interrupted. "I know."

"Ya know?"

"I've been married to her for twenty seasons, Wayte," Marc said and motioned from the fire to the foodstuffs. "You don't think I know my wife's routines."

"Well," Wayte huffed then got a glimmer of hope. "Marc- she not be 'ere cuz she not fit t'travel?"

"You could say that."

Wayte was elated with blissful ignorance. It was almost too painful to watch, but I didn't look away. "She be carryin' then? Aha! Marc- Aerwy finally gonna make ya a fadder, ya ol' sod! Fast, mates, break out t'brew, me sister's gonna be a mutder!"

"Aerwyna's dead, Wayte," Marc said slowly, letting the words sink in. "My wife is dead."

"W-What?" Wayte stuttered. "Aerwy… naw, naw, Marc ya be wrong…"

"I wish I was."

The two of them walked away from us all, seabeasts and guards alike, talking quietly and so we couldn't hear their chatter over the waves. Every so often the Otterguard gave us a wary glance as we gave them, but there was no verbal exchange between us. Behind me I heard a sniff and say Oggin wipe a paw over his left eye, then his right.

"Smoke from t'fire," he whispered out hoarsely when he noticed me watching him. "Tis all, matey; jus' smoke in me eyes…"

"Poison!" Wayte roared, bring our attention back to him and Marc. "Me sister be _poisoned?_ When… How?"

"She was visiting the orphanage," Marc explained painfully and shifted back a step when Wayte gave his shoulder a rough shove. His bodyguards took a step forward, but halted when Marc raised his paw.

"She was at the main orphanage," Marc restated loudly as Wayte took up a pace. "She visited them every morning…"

Wayte growled. "That don't explain a bloody t'ing, Marc!"

"Her bodyguard told me the maidens were so excited to see her. They had set up a little table with the tea set she had brought them the last time- she always brought them a present, you know; never went visiting without giving them something- well, they set it up with bits of food they saved from their breakfasts and water to use as tea…

"Callum said she curtsied to all of them and sat down with them in their game," Marc continued in speedy gasp and swallowed his emotion in a loud gulp. "They were laughing and sipping water from the cups and then the next thing he knew they were all coughing and gasping… The first one died in mere moments…"

"How… Marc, who woulda poisoned Aerwy?" Wayte snapped.

"One of the lads wasn't right in the head," Marc sneered. "Callum said they usually watch him, but… when it happened, they found him laughing in a corner holding a vial of what a healer identified as nightshade."

"Belladonna?" Wayte gaped in disbelief. "How'd a lad git 'is paws on that?"

"They aren't sure," Marc muttered. "Lisandro couldn't get it out of him. The creature just laughed the more they pressed him. He had him done away with before I got home."

"He shoulda let ya 'ave yar justice on 'im," Wayte snipped. "It be yar right as Aerwy's mate 'n a Rainwreath Otter t'see it done yar way…"

"Wayte, I would have torn him limb from limb," Marc sighed in defeat and slumped down in the sands by the fire. "And then I would have had the blood of a young one on my paws. Lisandro saved me from that. Now, I can meet Aerwyna in the Dark Forest with a clear conscience."

Wayte was silent. We were all silent. I was surprised the moon didn't cease the sea.

"They say she held on to the other maidens as they died, trying to comfort them," Marc said in shuddering breaths. "She said my name and yours in the end. Her last thoughts were of us."

"Ya were supposed ta protect 'er forever!" Wayte snarled at him and kicked sand in his brother-in-law's face. Marc didn't even move. "Ya promised me fadder! Ya promised me! Ya said ya'd give 'er a 'ome, a family she always want'd… ya said ya'd give 'er _e'erything_. 'N whatcha give 'er? Nothin' but a death while ya 'ere out- what, savin' others while Aerwy died in pain?"

The words were spiteful, full of hurt and pain. I closed my eyes and shuddered with each sentence and felt Brome's angry eyes throw daggers at my very conscience. I knew Wayte's snarls were not for me, but Marc, yet they were too close not to hit home. I opened my eyes again and took a step closer to the two otters with my right paw on my sword hilt. Brome may have wanted to say all those things to me if I had been brave enough to venture back to Noonvale, but that's where it would have ended- with just his words. Brome was a gentle beast; Wayte was not.

"I didn't deserve her, Wayte," Marc breathed and turned his face to me as I walked slowly forward. "I know that, but I think I made her happy…"

"If ya 'ad given 'er ta pups she wanted, she woulda been 'ome mindin' thur manners 'n not e'en at ta ruddy cub layover…"

"Wayte, that was out of both of our paws," Marc shook his head as if it was a much repeated line. "Seasons know we tried…"

"I's should kill ya," Wayte grumbled and held his blade out to point at Marc's eye. "I's should kill ya fer takin' me sister from me."

"I was hoping you would," Marc smiled and pierced his lips against the tear that trickled down his cheek. "Then I can be with her again."

They both tensed in front of me and I heard the Otterguard shift and the crew wheel around to face them. Marc gave Wayte a quick nod and the captain raised his cutlass…

"No, Captain!" I shouted, bounding the four strides and skidding to a stop in the sand before the grieving otter. Holding my paws wide like a shield, I said, "Don't kill him."

"Martin, he deserves t'die!" Wayte said and spat at my footpaws. "He killed me sister- me sweet baby sister!"

"No, he didn't," I countered coldly and narrowed my eyes. "The Fates took her. Marc had nothing to do with it. He couldn't stop it."

I turned back to the sitting otter and offered him my paw to raise him up. "Some flowers are not meant to wither on the vine, but to bloom and grow away from the protection of the thrones. Some are only meant for us to hold for a short time, but we can still cherish and love them after we say goodbye."

The otter just stared at me in a mixture of awe and confusion. He probably was not even processing my words, but trying to figure out why a mouse of all beasts was in the company of a gaggle of sea otter privateers.

"T'Fates I's be sayin' g'bye!" Wayte shouted behind me and I heard the whooshing sound of metal cutting air.

Without thinking, I pushed Marc out of the way, spinning low and unsheathing my sword in a single deadly motion. Bringing my blade up over my head I blocked Wayte's strike and pulled his cutlass back to the center. We didn't say a word as we began to fight, each of us countering the other's thrusts and parries, kicking sands, ducking swings, dodging attacks.

_"__Y'ave ta 'ave a cause," Wayte said calmly as I grunted and strained to hold my ground with our blades locked at their hilts from our spar on the main deck. "That be why yar not winning, Martin," Wayte laughed in my face. "Grunt at me all ya like, but yar not goin' ta push me back."_

"No!" I snarled and heaved the otter backwards. "You're killing an innocent creature to heal your own hurt, Wayte!"

A different voice fluttered into my mind then, one distant, so distant, yet so close I felt like I could touch it.

_Protect those weaker than yourself…_

"Outta me way, Martin!"

"No!" I said, glaring my eyes dangerously at the captain. _Stand for good and right…_

"I can't stand by and let you do this," I continued when he begun weaving back and forth in front of me, trying to decide where to strike.

_Never do thing you would be ashamed of…_

"Wayte, remember what you stand for- remember who you are!" I challenged him.

"I's be a pirate who's gonna get me ta head o' a ruddy no-good general afer I's kill a snub-nosed mouse!" Wayte chirped and charged at me with his cutlass high. I ducked under the blade and twisted away, using my agility to counter the sea otter's brute force. Wayte was quick to recover and spun round, striking down hard on my blade and pushing me downwards, but I dug the claws of my footpaws into the sands and pushed back, heaving the otter onto his heels before laying my own series of blows to his cutlass. Looking back, it must have been a sight to see, Wayte and me duelling, but then again, he was just a creature trying to kill his own pain and me, well, I was finding my cause. I had the upper paw; I could sense it and I knew Wayte could as well. I was fighting with my mind… calculated movements, just actions, correct form…

_Never let your heart rule your mind…_

I suppose that's why Wayte did it. His heart was ruling his thoughts when he broke from proper swordplay and kicked sand up into my vision. I growled as the grains scratched my eyes, and felt him cut me deeply across the shoulder, but I was ready for something like that. Faster than he could blink, I knocked Wayte's cutlass away from me and bulled him backward onto his rudder, kicking him hard in the neck. He gasped for a moment, his eyes wide and I punted my pommel down on the base of his neck to stun him further. He made an attempt to use his blade, but I sent it flying with a double pawed swing. Everything around me was red as I held my blade before me, my teeth clenched in a vicious snarl and my hackles raised.

"You say you're a pirate," I seethed and gripped my sword hilt tighter in my paws. "Well, I am a warrior; a warrior who stands for the good and right of all creatures and defends those in need of protection. As long as I have air in my lungs and strength in my paws, no beast will have to suffer the injustices of the world."

"Ta world not be fair, Martin," Wayte said coldly and glared at Marc. "Ta sooner ya be knowin' that, ta happier ya'll be."

"I will make it fair again," I promised him. "I will bring peace and love and comfort to creatures even if it brings my life to an end."

I felt her tingle my paws. I felt the warmth of her smile. I felt her lips whisper against my ear. _That's my brave warrior._

Slowly, I lowered my sword and took a step to the side, burying the point in the sands and leaning on it as I willed my pulse to slow.

"Wayte, where did you find this mouse?" Marc gaped at me as I stood off to the side, trying to calm myself. "I've never seen a beast disarm you before."

"I's found 'im in Pelham," Wayte groaned and got to his footpaws gingerly. "I's thought ya could use 'im in ta army ta help push ta vermin back once 'n fer all. I be bringing 'im 'ere fer Aerwy ta take t'ya.

"I's thought if t'battles be over, then ya could spend m'ere time wit me sister," Wayte confessed. "Aerwy miss'd ya so much when ya be gone 'n, well… if ya 'ere t'gether m'ere, maybe… jus' maybe..."

"Orleon would just kill him, Wayte," Marc said quietly. I could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my head. "The last mouse that came here out of the blue and… well, Orleon's not going to suffer a bold mouse like that after what happened to his great-uncle. He would just have this mouse killed."

"I's like t'see 'em try," Wayte chuckled sorely. "Ya jus' saw what he c'n do."

Marc just shook his head at his brother-in-law. "Get him out of here, Wayte. Get him out of here as fast as that ship of yours can sail."

"But I want to fight," I snapped and wheeled around at Marc. "I want to join the Southern Armies. I want to fight vermin. I want to free creatures from their holds."

"And you will," Marc said in a commanding voice after a silent moment. "But not here.

"You say you are a warrior," the otter continued and walked towards me. "But a true warrior knows not how to follow, but to lead. To lead with valour and honour; to know when to use force and when to hold back. To never give up, give in, give out. To dig your sword in the sands and pull yourself to your footpaws when all hope is lost and the Fates are calling your death.

"Yes, Martin, you are a true warrior, but here you would be known for what you would become and not for what you are."

With that the otter calmly brushed the sand from his dark blue cloak and nodded to his guards as they stood with their swords drawn at the crew.

"Back to Carminack," Marc said firmly and waved them up towards the bluffs.

"General Marc!" I yelled to him and held my paws wide when he turned to look at me. "What do you mean I would be known for what I will become and not who I am?"

He paused as if searching for the right words and then nodded to the captain. "Wayte Tydefell is the bravest sailor in the Southern Sea, but every beast in Southsward knows him as a _pirate_." I looked back at the captain and he nodded the reality to me.

"You- Martin, was it? - would come to be known as a killer, when you really are a hero."

I just stared at him blankly, registering his words. At my silence Marc gave me a tilt of his head in farewell, a wave to his brother-in-law and continued his ascent up the hill.

"Well, ya be a warrior, eh?" Wayte said to me after he gave orders to gather the gifted supplies and make ready to row back to _Kailani_. "Ya finally know who y'are then."

"I never changed," I said to the sea otter and looked up at the solemn expression he held on his face. "I just finally stopped running from myself.

"I know who I am now, Wayte," I said firmly and sheathed my sword at my side. "You said when I could tell you who I am, you would take me back to shore."

"Ya wantin' ta g'back ta Pelham then?"

"No," I sighed. "I am done with the north, and now I am done with the south. I'll try my paw at the midlands."

He chuckled and clasped me on the shoulder as we walked back to the long boat over the groves and ditches our footpaws made from our fight like they hadn't been ours at all.

"One day I'll find peace," I whispered to myself, but somehow Wayte heard me.

"Then what ya be doin' aboard a ship o' pirates, matey?" Wayte smirked as we flopped into the boat and Oggin and the others started rowing. "Hows bein' inta comp'ny o' scoundrels gonna give ya this peace ya seek?"

"You're privateers," I countered and glanced at the horizon where the sun was breaking over the waters. "You told me yourself."

"Pirate, mate," Wayte winked. "Privateer jus' be a fancy name fer pirate."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Because ya not be ready t'ear ta truth."

"Then why tell me now?"

"Because, now ya be ready."

* * *

Half a season later I jumped over the railing of the pirate ship into sea and half-swam, half-waded my way to the shore. It was the beginning of autumn and the trees were just starting to colour their leaves into swirls of yellow and orange. It was a good time for travelling; days that weren't too hot by day and nights not yet freezing. Hopefully by the winter I would find a place to call home. A place I could be myself with a cause that was true. Smiling, I turned towards the sea and pulled my sword from its scabbard and held it over my head.

For the second time in my life I stood on the shoreline whirling my sword aloft in a warrior's salute as a ship sailed away from me. For the third time, the feeling of utter solitude filled my body and clutched at my stomach like the grip of a cat's claws. After the fourth call of farewell, I sheathed my sword at my side and turned towards the foreign landscape, striding into the trees to continue my journey. By the fifth tree I was humming her song and at the sixth repetition, my paws were firmly in what was the far north-eastern border Mossflower Country.

I thought about telling beasts how I truly came to Mossflower, but I thought it was best kept a secret. As Wayte kept their real identity from me and let me form my own opinion of him and the crew, I did the same with other creatures I met. It became easier as I got older and my mind started to fail, but I will never forget how hard it was not to tell my stories to a chubby, eccentric mouse I came to know in a dungeon cell; an odd mouse of unwavering loyalty and belief in others, who quickly became the best friend I ever had.

_"__Tell me something, matey. Why do they call you warrior? Where are you from? Did you live in a place like Mossflower? Was it nice?"_

I put the wine I was drinking to one side and lay back on, staring at the ceiling of the cell that had been my home for most of my twentieth season. All my adventures flooded my mind and I ached to tell him everything about my father, about Badrang, Marshank, Felldoh, Rose, Brome, Grumm… Polleekin, Boldred, Ballaw, Rowanoak… Noonvale, Pelham, Southsward… Alijah, Althea, Wayte, Rover, Oggin… all of it. But something held me back. Something about the innocence in his eyes told me to wait. He wasn't ready to hear the truth. But he would be one day. Maybe. It was hard to tell one without the other and I had an oath to keep. I had a group of peaceful Noonvalers to defend that I could only protect with my silence. And _her_. How could he ever understand about Rose and how everything I had done and all I would do was to make her proud of me? No, he wasn't ready yet.

"Where I come from, Gonff, there are no forests, only rocks, grass and hills. Aye, that's the northland…"

* * *

**So that's my take on Martin's journey from the north to Mossflower. I hope you enjoyed it. **

**I had a huge source of inspiration from a certain song for these last two chapters- if you have the time (or care) I'd check it out. Peter Hollens and Tyler Ward do a version of Imagine Dragon's "It's Time" and I pulled a lot of strength from their voices and resolve in the song. I imagine Martin having a little theme song at this point in his life and this is it. It's adventurous, stoic and true. Just as our little mousewarrior. :P**

**And a few extra notes:**

**Yes, Martin is at the brunt of some jokes, but really, most serious types are.**

**No, I don't picture him as a complete innocent. He was a young male traveling with a group of pirates- of course he was going to... sew his seeds a little... Sorry, if this burst any bubbles, but for him not to, would just be plain odd. Yes, he is still in love with Rose in his heart, but he has come to grips with her "death" and if you read the text carefully, he had to make himself dead drunk and regretted it afterwards. Take from it what you will.**

**And, yes Saraa Luna- you know found out why Aerwyna died! **

**Also, I wanted to throw in Marc's comment about perception in regards to Martin. If he was a killer or a hero. Just a little philosophical question to ask yourselves.**

**Finally, the "what if" scenario... what if Martin never made it to Mossflower; what if Marc had just taken him into the army or if Wayte hadn't rescued him from drowning... or any of it. I guess I was trying to highlight the will of the fates here and how Martin seemed destined to make it to Mossflower. **

**Well, this is an extremely LONG author's note... Remember to vote and review!**


	19. Duty,Honour,Bravery:Part1-TwoS easonMarc...

**Special thanks to Saraa Luna who reviewed the last two chapters- to the rest of ya- what happened? Was it that bad? :( PLEASE- Remember to review!**

**Anyways, huge THX to Jade Tealeaf for helping me with this introductory chapter for our fourth (and possibly the most important) narrator. I struggled to write this chapter out and it was a bigger mess before she got her paws on the draft. So without further adieu... forward we go on the journey home...**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 1- The Two Seasons March**

_"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."_  
- Mae West _-_

* * *

_"Pop, why is Laec getting fitted for armour?" I asked as I sat on my chair in the Great Hall while my father watched the smiths fit my eldest brother with a breastplate. "'N why is Mom 'n Esmae in the solar getting all slobbery 'bout it?"_

_ "Because your brother is going to war, Liswano," my father replied curtly and continued to watch them adjust the plates. "The army is called and your brother is going to fulfill our family's pledge."_

_ "Like Rayley does?"_

_ "Sort of." I twiddled my paws around each other, trying to sit still. _

_ "But I thought we didn't have to fight in the army?" I pressed and shuffled my eight season old bottom closer to the edge of my seat. "Master Gafner says none of us have to. That 'cause of our family, we don't have t'fight."_

_ "Well, Master Gafner is a little misled in our family history, isn't he," Laec snapped from his place in front of the fire. "What does he think I'm wearing this for? Fun?"_

_ "Laec!" my father said sharply and eyed my brother. I allowed my eyes to narrow as well and to any beast standing in front of us, Pop and I were mirror images of one another. My brother opened his mouth to speak again, thought better of it and wisely turned his gaze away from us. _

_ Our father huffed at my elder brother and cleared his throat in anticipation of a long talk. "Liswano, has your tutor told you of how the Southern Armies originated?"_

_ "Un-huh," I nodded and smiled. "He says the vermin from the seas came and tried to take our land, but we fought back. And then Southsward's greatest fighters banded together, becoming the five generals, and made the army rules and told every male they had to fight or else. And so we fought and we won. They retreated, got more vermin and tried again, but we fought them again and..."_

_ "And that's all you know?" he chuckled and moved to the seat next to me. "Or is that all you cared to remember?"_

_ "Well, er…" I mumbled. I wasn't really known for paying attention to my studies. It wasn't my fault though. Leland and Latimer were always kicking my chair or pulling at my collar or something annoying. How was I to pay attention to what Master Gafner was saying when all I was thinking about was how to get them back once we were done for the day?_

_ "All his simple mind can remember!" Laec laughed and I jumped to my footpaws and landed a solid punch on his thigh._

_ "Take that back, Laec!" I shouted and hit him again- harder this time and in the exact same spot to make a bruise, just as Ol' Bushy Whiskers showed me. "I'm not simple!"_

_ "Liswano! Laec! Enough!" Pop roared and pulled me off my older brother by my collar. "Lis- sit in that chair and be quiet; and Laec- shut your mouth while you still have a tongue. That is your brother you're talking to, not a piece of dirt under your paw. Just because he can't remember every detail does not make him simple. _

_ "What are words anyway?" he continued to educate us in more important matters than my tutor ever did. "Markings scribed upon a page or puffs of hot air that escape our mouths? Regardless, they are forgotten over time. But actions," he stressed and looked directly at me. "For good or bad, actions are always remembered. Trust in that."_

_ I nodded and Laec rolled his eyes as if he knew more than Pop did, as he always did whenever he was proven wrong. I once overheard the sailors say they wish Lars had been the firstborn and even one said I was most like Pop and should have been up there, but regardless, Laec was the firstborn and heir to my father's title. _

_ "Yes, the vermin arrived on our coast from the Eastern Sea countless seasons ago," Pop stated and resumed my lesson. "And yes, our ancestors fought back. But the vermin kept coming and in greater numbers. No single village could fight against them, so the good creatures united together under a single banner and were able to push evil back, but not for long. The vermin kept coming from the eastern islands, coveting more land, more power._

_ "Soon it became apparent they would be a constant threat and a standing army was the only solution to keep the creatures of Southsward safe. So, in this very room we are in right now, a great council was held to decide on the terms."_

_ "Here?" I whispered and gaped about the hall. It hardly seemed possible such a great event in Southswardian history would take place in the very spot I ran about during my day. I heard Laec give a comical snort, but I ignored him._

_ "Yes, here," my father smiled. "You are descended from an old noble line, Liswano. We have always held lordship over the ports and waters of Carminack as the Mariner Lord, and once the Hearth Lord line died out, we took over their responsibility as well with the help of the Council of Alderbeasts. It was only fitting such a meeting would be held in our halls."_

_ "But what about Constillion? They have an old palace…"_

_ "Constillion could not offer the army what it needed," Pop said, cutting me off. "Constillion is a cultural city, not a trade capital. Carminack had more to offer the army; _we_ had more to offer the army._

_ "We allowed them to house the army here in Carminack. We agreed to help provide them with barracks and supplies, fair trade and price for food to feed the fighters. We paid for a wall expansion and oversaw the building of cottages for the legionnaires and the families. All this we promised, for one thing: No male from our line would be forced into the army."_

_ "Like Rayley?"_

_ "Yes, like Rayley," Pop replied spitefully, and I watched him clench his paws until his knuckles went white. After a moment, he sighed and unclenched them, turning his attention back to me. "You see, Liswano, when the five generals outlined the rulings for the Army Creed, they decided our strength was in our numbers. Most of the population of Southsward were glorified farmers and not necessarily skilled with in the ways of combat, but enough of them could win a battle. So the generals drafted their first law- every male in Southsward would serve in battle unless proved to be a crucial beast to the existence of their village."_

_ "Like a tradebeast?"_

_ "Yes, exactly. If you are a tradebeast, you are exempt from service."_

_ "So, then if we aren't supposed to go to battle, why is Laec going?" I asked and watched the smith buckle a greave on my brother's leg._

_ "To honour our pledge to the army," Pop said sternly. "No male will be forced into service, but one will join the march as duty to the cause and uphold our family honour. We have great bravery in our family, Liswano, and we are not afraid to show it."_

_ I turned when Laec cleared his throat and saw him pale a little. He was almost fully garbed now in armour and I wasn't sure if it was the weight of the steel making him look weak and woozy or if my smart mouthed brother was actually scared. He cleared his throat again and looked at our father with eyes of disbelief. As young as I was, I knew what they were trying to say- _is this really happening?

_ "Duty, Honour and Bravery," Pop continued and pointed both of us to our family crest above the large mantel of the fireplace. Collecting the official arms of our family, a pair of twin short swords, he pressed a blade in each of his paws with his statements. "Duty to our cause; honour to our family; bravery for ourselves." The last phrase he pointed directly at Laec's heart. My brother just gave him a single flick of his head in acknowledgement, his lips pierced and his face paler, but he stood still._

_ "This is our family motto. This is our creed. This we uphold by sail or by soil, by quill or by blade," he proclaimed to each of us and walked back to kneel in front of me._

_ "Now, Liswano, what is our motto?"_

_ "Duty, Honour and Bravery," I reiterated with a grin. _

_ "Duty to our cause," my father said firmly and balled my left fist up before me. "Honour to our family," doing the same to my right paw, "Bravery for ourselves," he finished and tapped his claw on my heart. Standing up, he looked down on me as I was posed for a boxing match. "Remember these words, Liswano and you will never shy away from a fight. And if you never shy away from a fight, you will always be fit to call yourself a lord."_

* * *

I was the cockiest, swaggering coin-flicker in Carminack ever to sport the fineries of a noble birth. I had my father's strong build, my mother's good looks, my grandfather's charm and a belt pouch full of coin whenever I needed it. I thought I had the entire world by the sack and was willing to bet ten gold lusters my nuts were larger. Ha, what can I say- I was every bit a young lord. Liswano, son of the Mariner Lord Lisandro of Carminack, and later I would captain the mouse legion in the Southern Armies.

I grew up with everything and nothing all at the same time. I had a large home, servants, the best luxuries Southsward could provide; five pushy, older brothers and three bossy, older sisters, a father who cared, but had no time, and a mother to which I only meant a day and half of birthing pains. Paints a nice family portrait, doesn't it? Not likely.

At eighteen seasons I made the most rash decision I ever made when I jumped into the trial ring to punch the snout off a mouse who was about to cleave my best friend in half; a friend I held dearer than any of my real family. Together we fought off our opponents and winded ourselves into the Southern Armies. After a brief training stint we saw our first battle, survived it and came home only to march right back out again. Such was to be my life and if it saved my brothers from, well… I guess you don't really know the whole story about that one.

You see, if I served in the army that meant my brothers didn't have to. With my father aging, Laec was needed at home to learn the lordship and, well, at the time of my sign-up he was just becoming a father for the second time. My two nieces deserved to have their father at home and not somewhere about the countryside literally fighting for his life. Lars was too important to my father- he was a remarkable sailor and captained our own family's ship. He had the respect of every seabeast in the Southern Sea and ran the port without a hitch, while Laec focused more on the infrastructure of the city. Lars couldn't serve a march- trade would fall to pieces without him and he needed all his limbs to sail. He couldn't afford an amputation or mutilation. Then there was Loulen; love him as I may, he was a flat out drunk. He'd just end up getting himself killed. And Leland and Latimer- well, they were just too simple. Thought everything about life was a joke. Fates' Fire, they probably would have burst out laughing the moment they were gutted with a spear.

So, that left only me. Now, don't start blubbering about me being all self-sacrificial. I wasn't being that. I was flat out selfish back in those days. The army gave me everything I wanted; independence from my family, a few spare coins to add to my inheritance, an excuse to knock a beast's teeth in, travel, excitement, maids… the same any young male with a thirst to prove themselves wanted. Only I didn't really have anything to prove per se; I just wanted the prize.

I had already lived to tell my tale after one battle and after a short rest in Carminack, we all marched off for what ended up to be the longest continued campaign the Southern Armies had ever marched on. For two seasons we camped outside those swamped bogs and dense forests of central Southsward, constantly raiding and being raided- fully determined we were going to push the vermin out of their newest haven. We couldn't use the full force of our strength; oh no, there was no marching a full kitted army into those cursed trees, so we had to flush them on. Camp by camp we found them and killed the vermin off in groups. They were small victories, but all small victories lead to a large triumph. Our mouse legion was commanderless after the fall of Captain Elgan and though General Marc assumed responsibility for our direct actions and orders, there were none amongst us to lead; that is until Ratherwood and I stepped up to fill that void. We played to our strengths then.

Ratherwood led creatures into the forests to track the vermin, to find their hovel or camp, to kill them if they could or to send a runner back to get more paws to help if they couldn't. I was a set of those paws. At the call I would lead teams from our legions into the murk of the boscage and together we would charge the scum and eliminate them bit by bit. But enough about history and backstories; for me actions always spoke louder than words…

* * *

_"For Southsward!"_

I bellowed my battle cry at the top of my lungs and crashed through the thick underbrush of the forest towards the meagre camp of vermin, both my short swords drawn and my teeth clenched into a snarl. Behind me I heard the yells and stomps of my contingent- a two score mixture of mice, squirrels and otters- chasing after my heels and barrelling at the surprised vermin. To my right, Ratherwood and his group of trackers broke from their position in the scrubs to join our charge.

The vermin tried to scatter; scurrying about the vegetation and groping for their weapons. Some of them even gave in to choking on their drink or bits of roasted bird, dying from their own stupidity before we even had the chance to slice them through. For the ones that were bright enough to swallow and stand their ground, we rushed them and put an end to their miserable lives.

Strike, block, stab. It's always those three motions to kill with twin blades. Strike down hard with your right paw, block the counter attack with your left, and then stab your right blade home through the creature's gut; pretty simple really, and not much to remember. For the life of me, I don't know why beasts said it was too fancy. But then, I always was good at swinging my sword around.

"That's it lads!" I hollered and sliced a weasel across the throat. "We have them! Push forward!"

Immediately I blocked a slash to my left and brought my right blade across my body to stab a rat through the skull. Giving a twist for good measure, I pulled my blade out, whipping it back to my right side to block the strike from a spear; twisting to the side, I sidestepped forward and left before bringing my left sword down on the base of a ferret's neck, then rolled my two swords back in my wrists and thrust the tips behind me to impale a stoat thinking he'd get the jump on me from behind. Really, what do they teach these creatures?

I wheeled around and brought both my blades down on an angle across the back of a weasel thinking he was going to chop ol' Duncan down. With a howl he arched his long slimy back at me and I drove a blade through his back, knocking another spear away from us as I kicked my other blade free from the vermin's body. Across the fire I saw a small mouse jump to the right to avoid an axe swing and roll away from a spear thrust. A rat stomped down hard on his tail to hold him in place and the little one gave a loud squeak of surprise.

Breaking from the line, I leapt over the fire and covered the mouselet's body with mine as a dull cutlass smacked against my breastplate with a loud _clang_. I swung backwards with my left paw, slicing the rat's foot clean off and stretching back up to my footpaws to block the opposing axe's downward chop. Grunting in exertion, I kept the axe head locked in the cross of my swords above my head and the young mouse sprang to his paws and drove his dirk into the belly of the vermin below his right set of ribs, slicing downwards on an angle to the beast's left hip to cut his innards. Both of us pushed the scum away and continued our assault.

Another brief moment of chaos and bloodshed passed and before long we were all staring at each other and gasping for breath in the humid air.

"Search the trees," I heard Ratherwood command from beside me and started about his usual fussing with the wounded. "And Gill do a dead count- we need to make sure none have tried to sneak off."

"I doubt any of them did that," I laughed and kicked a rat over just to make sure his twitch was just because Ratherwood's axe was embedded in his skull and not that the scum was still sucking my air. "This really was a stupid lot. Where are the foxes finding them?"

"I don't know, but these didn't put up much of a fight."

"New recruits?"

"Probably jus' their bastardly sons finally old enough t'swing a blade," commented a rough ol' otter named Archard. "Look it 'em. Most don't 'ave a scar on 'em."

"Good," I chuckled with a grin. "If they're sending these out, their numbers must be few. We're getting close… and speaking of close…" I said as Ratherwood reefed his weapon out of the vermin's brain. "Could you find a camp further away? We must have waited the better part of the day for you to find this sorry lot!"

"We were lucky enough to find this one," my friend grinned at me once he was satisfied not many of our contingent were seriously injured. "They're getting smart and starting to cover their tracks and lay false trails."

"So, how'd you find them?"

"I didn't- Florgin found them," Ratherwood replied with a smirk and a nod to the young mouse of only twelve seasons. My fighting companion stood a pace or two off holding a bloodied dirk in one paw and running his sleeve over his nose to wipe away the blood and mud with the other.

"He found their trail over a rock bed," Rath continued. "Mouse has eyes like an eagle."

"Good work there, laddie," I praised the young mouse and gave him a smile. I don't know how he did it, really, but he and his brother both were a tough pair of mice. Pity Florus died in one of the early battles not long after those two showed up at camp. Oh, did those two mice ever scare the wits out of him when they snuck up to the fire one night! Imagine a pair of mouselets tracking the Flamring fighters all the way to Constillion? A fortnight they would have been on the road with nothing but their own wits to keep them alive. We could tell they scrapped with something along the way- they both had cuts and bruises when they arrived, but they made it none the less.

For the better part of a week we were able to hide them from the generals and pool bits of our rations together to make a decent enough meal for them. But when Florus died, well, they both came running and blew their cover. The generals were furious- Marc in particular. We all feared Florgin was in for another whipping, but the sight of two mouselets begging their dad to keep breathing for them stayed even Orleon's paw. Ah, and did that poor mouse try to live for them. He held them as tight as he could and kept trying to breathe, gasping out he was proud of them and to be brave, but his wounds were too great. Even Gowren ran up from the surgeon's tent to see what could be done for him, but there was nothing to be done for a javelin through your chest. Florus died in the musty old swamps of Constillion and two mouselets who should have been home chasing butterflies grew up instantly into mice.

But for all they were they made the best of themselves and I would always admire their courage. Giving the young one a grin, I clapped him one the shoulder and grimaced slightly at the boney feel to it. "We'll be sure to tell one of the generals of your help and you'll be sure to eat tonight, Florgin. Maybe even get ya a titch of honey on your bread."

"As long as they feed Flintin too," Florgin snipped and turned a pair of life-hardened eyes to me. "Last time he carried a letter for General Varun all the way to Creek Point for his soddy wife an' when he got back, that no-good river otter only gave him a pat on the head. 'S not fair."

"We'll make sure they know about you and I'm sure ol' Dana will make sure it's filled to the brim," Ratherwood said plainly. "And tell Flintin to keep to Marc or Arrlo's missives. They seem to be the only ones willing to acknowledge you two."

Rath waited for Florgin's nod before turning back to me. "We should get going back. I'm sick of staring at these vines and mosses."

"Aye," I agreed and wiped my blades off on the peat before sheathing them across my back. "I don't want to be near here when this lot starts to sour- ha! Imagine the stink then!

"Right, lads! Back to camp," I shouted loudly and pointed back south with my paw. "My stomach is rumbling and there is more than one thing I'm craving!"

"What's that?" Florgin asked innocently as we started to move through the fingery trees of the forest. Always that young one was in my shadow.

"Ta-"

"_ALE_," Rath stressed and gave me a hard look. "Lis just wants _ale._ Isn't that right, Lis?"

"Sure," I chortled and the others behind us held in their snickers. "A nice _rounded_ mug of warm, creamy…"

"Eww, you like the froth!" Florgin grimaced and held out his tongue in distaste. "Yuck, it's so gross!"

"An acquired taste actually," I snorted when the snickers let lose into a few hoots. "Just wait until you've had a sniff or two…"

"But it gets up my nose and on my whiskers," Florgin whined. "I just don't like it."

I couldn't help it. I burst into laughter as did every other beast. "Do it right and it'll be on more than your nose, young one. Just you wait an' see!"

"Nope, I just lick it off quick and start in for the good part."

"Oh laddie, are we going to have to teach you a few things," I sniggered. "You can't go for the goods right away! Do that and you'll not get your seconds…"

"I get seconds?" Hysteria ensued. If the main vermin camp was anywhere near, they were sure to hear us; but at that moment, I didn't give a fike. Florgin's innocence was too comical; all the more considering the circumstances of how he was raised. Good on both Liana and Florus- they raised him proper in his young years if he couldn't pick up on our, well, my hints.

"Alright, that's enough," Rath chided me and threw the rest a glare to silence them. "All of you. Lis- stop playing with the lad, and Florgin- how did you ever get a mug of ale?"

"Lis gave it to me," he said plainly and shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. Ratherwood gave me one of those daggery-type looks he was known for. You know the kind- the 'I can't believe you just did that' look a wife usually gives you. I made a face in start of my defence, but Rath cut me short and shook his head.

"Lis- he's twelve!"

"And Loulen started drinking out of the womb and he's still alive!" I argued, then dropped my voice so only he could hear. "It was only a cup really. It helped bring him out of his doldrums when ol' Florus passed. Lighten up."

"Loulen's got wine for blood and you should have talked to the lad- not got him drunk!"

"First off, he didn't get drunk," I rolled my eyes at mister prim and proper. "He was pleasantly listless, that's all. And second- you tried talking to him, it didn't work, remember? And thirdly- Loulen's got just plain ale in his blood; don't go given away credit of high quality drink on that lump of fur!"

* * *

We arrived back at camp just as the meal carts were coming passed for the night. Rath and I were able to wrangle a bowl of hideous leek stew out of Dana before we grumbled and chewed our way to general's pavilion to let them know we were back from the raid and were successful. We were met with the same tripe as always; who are you, what do you want, blah blah blah from Orleon's damned squirrelguards, but in the end, General Marc would always poke his head out at the noise of me telling them where to shove their tails and came down to us.

If we ever had a good general, Marc Stalwallows was it. The ruddy sea otter actually took interest in the fighters and, dare I say it, cared about our sorry hides. More often than not, he fought in the battles, unlike the other generals who were quite content to sit and watch. For Marc, I had great respect and I would always trust his judgement. The others, well, they could all just line up bend an arse to one another.

"So you found this one up on the ridge?" Marc questioned Ratherwood as we walked up towards the pavilion.

"Yes, about a league from here," Rath nodded. "I think we're close. The vermin we killed were young."

"A few more raids and we should have them," I agreed. "After two seasons, there can't be that many of them left, if any."

"Hmm," Marc mused and rubbed his chin with a paw. "There's a meadow field just past the ridge isn't there?"

"According to the maps," Rath sighed. "We haven't seen it yet, though."

"Would be a good place to hold a full sized camp," the general stated. "Tomorrow I want you two to take five fighters and go look for this field. No fighting. Just scout and come back. Understand?"

"Yes, General," we both said in unison before the tent flap was flung open and General Varun pushed his way through the hole.

"Ah, Marc!" the fat river otter barked. "There ye went. C'mon- it's time ye had a taste of Constillion hospitality!"

My ears immediately pricked at the tinkling ring of female laughter within the tent; maids and lots of them by the sounds of it. I found myself tilted to the left and gaping into the tent to view the wonderful sight before me. Tails and rudders in silken skirts were everywhere and the heavy scent of cheap incents burned my nostrils. Ugh, I could have cried tears of joy.

"Ugh- nope, not for you!" Varun snickered and flicked his paws at us like we were birds to be shooed. "Those beauties our just for us generals- yours are already down the hill causing a ruckus."

"Funny, I didn't see any males prancin' for you Var- ooff!" I coughed as Ratherwood landed a solid elbow to my ribs. "I mean, yes, thanks- down the hill…"

"Least I can do for the legions is give them a bit of a show!" Varun laughed and threw a paw over Marc's shoulders. "Might, er- perk them up a bit, eh Marc, eh? Oh now, don't give me that look- they're _paid_ dancers and entertainers. What they do off-stage is no concern of mine…"

And with that he dragged the reluctant sea otter with him into the tent full of lovelies.

"I bet you ten silvers those ottermaids find their way down the hill in twenty minutes when they figure out Marc's too noble to touch them and Varun screams higher than they do when he lifts their skirts!"

"You're on," Rath smirked at me and we turned to walk back towards the sounds of the calls and beating drums.

"Right, c'mon Rath- to the winner gets the spoils!" I laughed and gave him a shove in the shoulder.

"Lis, haven't you had enough tail yet?"

I patted my belt pouch to hear the jingle of coins. "Nope. Not yet! You can never have too much. Now, hurry up and let's get ours picked out before the others try to play claimzies and we have to show them up again!"

"You're impossible."

"What?" I laughed. "If you need coin, I told you I would share."

"No thanks."

"Aw, I forgot," I rolled my eyes at him and pitched my voice into a high screech. "Oh, Clara, oh, my Clara. I love you and we'll always be together…"

"Stop it…"

"… Even though I've taken another into the woods to make her scream a bit I thought of you the whole time…"

"Lis, knock it off!"

"… I'll write poems dedicated to your beauty and that flaming fur o' yours; flaming just like my heart for you!"

"I'm not in love!" Rath huffed as we neared the gathering crowd. "I just, well… I prefer her."

"Un-huh," I guffawed and gave him another shove, which he returned. "I'll remember that for my speech at your wedding- 'Well, I knew the lassie was his when Rath looked at me amongst a gaggle of wenches and proclaim- to Clara I _prefer_!'"

We just laughed and I proceeded to shove into the thongs of beasts, elbowing my way past all the gawkers and gulpers to make it at the front of the circle where I could best view the dancers in all their flexible, bendable forms. Ah, the night was just looking better and better!

"Why aren't any of you out their dancing with them?" I shouted over the drums and pipes to an otter on my left.

"An' ruin this?" the waterdog laughed. "They won't want us to dance with them!"

I just rolled my eyes. Bumpkins. Absolutely country bumpkins. "No, they're just shaking their hips at you because it makes their headfur grow!"

With a wink at Ratherwood, I rolled my shoulders, threw on a smile and jumped into the wheel, twirling a light furred lass with one paw and grabbing another by her well rounded hips to bring them closer to me. They hooted and hollered at me, squealing in delight at my participation. I just grinned broader and laughed. It wasn't long before I was pulled into the center of the wheel and had the mousemaids curled up into my sides. The three of us took a moment to catch our breaths before they both stared up at my with a carnal look to their eyes.

"Are you up for a go, mister…" the one whispered sweetly into my ear and felt the muscles in my broad shoulders.

"_Lord _Liswano," I winked at her.

"Oh, a lordling are you," she mused and ran her palm over my chest to check the richness of the fabric. "I never had a lord above me before, _m'lord!"_

"And you lassies better not forget it, because you'll be screaming it later."

"Lassies?" the other curvier one giggled. "You think to have us both then?"

"Well, that depends," I chuckled and enjoyed her paw roving down my tunic. That one was the smart one. She was teasing me into thoughtless need; driving me to think I would pay anything for their services. Joke was on them though. I had enough coin in my pouch to get all my rocks off and then some.

"On what, Liswano?"

"On how many are free," I groaned as she shamelessly pulled her paw low to my groin.

"We aren't cheap," the other jested and twirled her paw in a practiced motion over my inner thigh.

"Never said you were, lassie," I breathed and took her paw to where we both knew she wanted to touch. "But then, neither am I."

A slow smile curled her lips and nodded to the trees on the other side of the yard. "Just the two of us then?"

"To start," I grinned lustfully, throwing my paws around their waists to lead the two mousemaids off with Ratherwood's laughter heralding a string of catcalls and whistles as I left. Seasons, I loved being a legionnaire!

* * *

**So what do all of you think of our young Liswano of Carminack? A little bit different than the one we see in The Sword and His Flowers, huh? ;) Is it for the better, for the worse- it's up for you to decide, but I'd love to hear some initial thoughts on him!**

**Oh and remember to vote for your favourite narrator on the poll in my profile! (Yes, Lis has been added!)**

**REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**


	20. Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 2- Captaincy

**Special thanks to Saraa Luna for reviewing the last chapter and to Jade Tealeaf, who is playing catch-up with her reviews again! ;)**

**So this segment of our friend Liswano is a bit long, but screams volumes about his character and starts in a little bit of a transformation for him... Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 2- Captaincy**

_"Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others."_  
- Robert Louis Stevenson -

* * *

_ I was sitting on the floor by the fire with Ratherwood amidst the chairs and settles in the Great Hall. The two of us were beating Leland and Latimer at a game of jacks when the doors flew open and my father stormed in dragging Laec by his collar. My brothers and I quickly moved in front of Rath to hide him; he wasn't supposed to be in that part of the manor, but it was cold and rainy outside and we were doing anything to try and cheer him up after he was told his father was dead. All of us were quiet, hoping Pop wouldn't notice us when he flung Laec away from him into an out-turned chair. I never thought my father had that kind of strength still in his paws._

_ "Tell the truth, Laec!" he shouted. "No more lies- what do you know?"_

_ "I've told you everything!" my brother snipped. "I don't know anything- I wasn't even on that side…"_

_ "So Marc has told me," Pop grumbled. "So every beast has told me. The question is why you were not on your proper flank- where your captain placed you!"_

_ "I-I got moved. Last minute. Something about uneven numbers."_

_ "Laec- what happened to Rayley?"_

_ "I don't know, alright! No one knows. He's just gone!"_

_ I glanced back at Rath for a moment. My friend sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his ink-stained paws pulling down hard on his ears as if to block out all the sounds. His eyes were squished shut and his teeth clenched tight at the mention of his father's name. I felt low as a snail that I had dragged him up here- promising we were going to have fun._

_ "Some beasts know," Pop said sharply and made a waving gesture across his body. "There are rumours flying all over the city._

_ "Injured. Maimed. Captured. Tortured," my father continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "Every legionnaire has a different version. Every captain has a different excuse. Every general has a different lie. All these different opinions and yours is the only one I can trust."_

_ "Why me?"_

_ "Because you are my son!" Pop snapped, his voice echoing in the rafters. "The very son my friend told me would come home again. Rayley stood right here- two paces from you there and told me he would make sure you came home; that a creature must always come home, no matter what." He paused for a moment and let his shoulders slump and his paws fall to his sides. "Laec, tell me why my friend never came home?" Pop whispered._

_ "You didn't find him at the… he wasn't with the dead?" Laec mumbled and leaned forward in his chair. My father just shook his head._

_ "Pop, I've told you everything I know," Laec reaffirmed in a low voice, his elbows placed upon his knees and his paws held out before him with their palms up. "We marched on the enemy. There were too many. The Constillion captain fell and then Marc came in with the otter legion. We were still over faced and Orleon sounded the retreat. It was chaos; I-I didn't know what to do, I-I tried to do what Bushy told me- to back up in a retreat and stay facing the vermin, but there were so many dying. Eventually, we all just tucked tail and ran as fast as we could. We relinquished the meadow and pulled back to the hills. The vermin pulled back too."_

_ "And no beast collected the wounded? Saw the dead weren't hewn where they lay?"_

_ "Some beasts crawled back," Laec muttered and shivered as if remembering something he wished he forgot. "Some were… they had to… I mean there was no saving them. Orleon ordered us to… I just…"_

_ My brother was rubbing his paws together now, over and over, like he was washing them in a fountain. I looked at Latimer and Leland. They were like statues. I couldn't even tell if they were breathing. I glimpsed back at Rath- he was rocking on his bottom now._

_ "Mercy killing is necessary sometimes, Laec," my father said softly and the word 'killing' caused me to snap my head around. "You know this from seafaring. Sometimes a beast is beyond the power to heal. Why let them suffer in their final moments when you can give them a just death."_

_ A cold chill trickled down my back. So it wasn't just vermin that could kill you at war- good beasts could too. You could crawl your way back to what you thought was safety and still be killed by a creature you thought was your friend. It didn't make sense. _

_ "I know," Laec sighed and stretched back up in his seat. "I looked for Rayley- I really did, but we weren't allowed to go back to the field until the generals devised a plan. But I did talk to one beast that came back, one they let live- I told you about him- the otter that lost his rudder."_

_ Pop nodded. "Tell me again. Every detail. A piece may fall into place."_

_ "There aren't any details!" my brother exclaimed and flopped against the back of his chair in frustration. "Pop, I just want to go back to Esmae. Aubrey should be up by now…"_

_ "You can go back to your wife and daughter when I can tell my friend's wife and son what happened to him! Hestia is waiting for me to return with Rayley's body. How am I supposed to tell her and little Ratherwood, they can't find it, huh? That Rayley just magically disappeared?"_

_ "Poof!" Leland jested and Latimer giggled. Pop and Laec spun to the side to look at us, each staring in disbelief that we were there._

_ "You carp-brained maggot!" I yelled at him and shoved him away from me. He and Latimer just started laughing their ridiculous twin cackles and making jokes at one another. Idiots, Pop had called them once and now I knew it to be true. Idiots. Twin idiots with only half a brain between them._

_ "Lads!" Pop said angrily and pointed to the door. "The three of you OUT!"_

_ The twits got up and did as we were bidden. I stayed where I was. My father had only said three. He must not have seen Ratherwood behind me._

_ "Liswano- I said out."_

_ I felt Rath press up against my back and his forehead rest between my shoulder blades. "No," he breathed. He needed to hear what happened. I knew he did. If I stayed, he was hidden and just maybe we could find out what happened to the brave mouse that used to tell us stories of great palaces and ships with golden sails._

_ "I don't want to leave," I replied boldly. "I-I want to hear what happened to Rayley."_

_ "You're too young, Lis," Pop exhaled. I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated being told I couldn't do something, but I especially hated being told I couldn't do something because I was too young; and being the youngest in my family, it was a guarantee I was told it daily._

_ "Fine," I said coldly, but didn't move. "I'd rather hear it from you, but I guess a servant or a gossiper on the street will tell me for a coin."_

_ "You will not…"_

_ "I will."_

_ Laec snorted at my insolence and Pop shook his head. I was always the most wilful of the family and as stubborn as my mother was snotty. Pop knew it too._

_ "Fine," he relented. "But don't blame me when you wet yourself in your sleep from a nightmare."_

_ I just smiled and shook my head. I never had nightmares._

_ "Laec, just tell me what that otter said," my father grumbled and turned back to my brother._

_ "Just that he saw Rayley trying to run," Laec muttered and gave me a glance out of the corner of his eye. "He couldn't keep up to the retreat… he was trying, but he… Pop, he only had one footpaw."_

_ Again Rath tensed behind me. I grit my teeth._

_ "The otter said he lost sight of him in the crowds," Laec carried on. "He said the vermin were pulling creatures back- grabbing at any beast they could."_

Why?_ I wondered. _ Why wouldn't they just kill them?

_ "Kentin thought they were after information," Pop spoke in an odd tone that was more a statement then a question._

_ "The otter didn't think Rayley got away," Laec finally said._

_ "They wouldn't have taken Rayley," Pop argued. "He wasn't a captain- he wasn't wearing a cloak. He wouldn't know any battle plans."_

_ My brother was silent and just stared at the floor in front of him. "He did."_

_ "What?"_

_ "Captain Elgan was asking him what to do," Laec gulped, but didn't blink. "He's just a new captain. He was asking Rayley and Duncan, that old legionnaire from Flamring, what formation to hold- where to place creatures. I heard him tell Rayley lots of things he shouldn't have…"_

_ A small motion at my right side caused me to shift my eyes and I saw the tip of Ratherwood's nose peeking out from behind me. He looked up at me and wrinkled his nose. He could smell it too. We could both smell a snake._

_ Pop started to pace. "So what if he knew the generals' plans- the vermin wouldn't have known he did. Only captains and generals know battle plans. Only they wear cloaks and…" He halted and then went white as milk. Turning on his heel back to my brother, Pop sneered and narrowed his eyes. "Laec, where's your cloak?"_

_ Silence._

_ "Laec, where is your cloak?" Pop said, his voice raising. His face was turning red now. "Laec!"_

_ "It's, er, well," my brother stammered. Ratherwood stood up on his footpaws and walked a step in front of me. I rose as well._

_ "Laec!"_

_ "It's gone."_

_ "Gone?" Pop snipped and then let his head flop back to utter a single bolt of laughter. "Gone? You're supposed to wear that so the generals can keep an eye on you!" Laec looked at the floor again. "But then if you were wearing it, you wouldn't have been able to switch flanks…"_

_ "Pop, I…"_

_ "Enough," he said. "Just enough."_

_ "General Orleon doesn't believe Rayley was captured." Rath swayed at Laec's statement. "He would have been tortured for information if he had and the vermin didn't know our next move or they would have been prepared for it…"_

_ "My Da was tortured?" Ratherwood said in a plain voice. Pop wheeled around._

_ "Ratherwood!" he gaped and started striding towards us. "Where did you come from lad?"_

_ "Da was t-tort-tured," he stuttered and I saw my friend's eyes go glassy like Lyca does when she swoons._

Smash.

_ My mouth dropped open when I turned to see Hestia standing in the doorway, trembling breaths shaking her body and her paws held out in front of her as if she was still holding the tray of tea and cakes that were smashed on the boards at her footpaws._

_ "Hestia…" Pop gasped and changed his course to go to her. Laec got to his paws._

_ "My Da was tortured," Rath muttered for a third time as Hestia screamed and my father pulled her into a tight hug. "Mum?" my friend said and took one step to go to her before his knees buckled and Rath tipped forward. Laec caught him just before his head could smash on the floor._

_ "He couldn't have been," Laec asserted as he laid an unconscious Ratherwood gently on the floor and I knelt beside him. "If Rayley was tortured- he would have told them… the vermin would have attacked. We would have lost…"_

_ "Torture only works when there is fear," Pop said and I looked up at him, taking in every syllable of his words. "Brave beasts hide their fear and will only show their courage. Torture doesn't work on courage."_

* * *

We found the vermin. They were, just as General Marc thought, in the meadow past the ridge. About two thousand strong we figured by the tents and fires. Maybe more, maybe less. It didn't really matter- it was more than we thought they had. What did matter is what else we found; we found a way to attack them.

"If we march north and back east around the marsh, the forest thins," I explained as I slid my claw over the map. "There's a small wall of old tumbled rocks and then a stream…"

"Yes, yes- the old moat and battlements from the dawning days for the Southern Kingdom," Orleon grumbled and Varun threw a glare at badger for his disinterested tone to Southswardian history. The stripe dog of a general didn't even notice, or care (really), and pressed me, "We know that. The _scouts_ have told us that. The _map_ tells us that. Now, how do we get to the rotters?"

"There's a bridge," I replied in a cold tone. "Right here." I took the dagger from my belt and pressed the tip slow and hard through the parchment and into the oaken table. What did I care if I wrecked it- the map came from my family's archives anyway.

All five generals shifted forward in their chairs and the pavilion was silent; anticipation hung almost as heavy as the humidity inside the folds of that stifling canvas tarp.

"It's wide," Ratherwood put in. "We figured about twenty beasts abreast, maybe fifteen fully armed, and about sixty paces long."

"It would be countless seasons old," Arrlo mumbled and glanced up at me. "Would it hold the weight of an army marching across it?"

"Only one way to find out," I shrugged and turned to Marc. "They don't watch it. I don't even think they where it is or that it's even there."

"And how would you know that, mariner brat?" Orleon gruffed out. He hated it when I, or any beast for that matter, addressed Marc first and not him.

"Because I pissed off it and no beast tried to kill me."

Everybeast chuckled, except for Varun. "You can't do that!" he gasped. "That was the entrance to the Southern Kingdom! The Seasons' fourth stronghold! Great Badger Lords would have trod where you… you…"

"You mean to tell me, a Great Lordy badger didn't take a leak near it?" I scoffed and furrowed my brow. "Now, come on General Varun- they would have marked their territory with more than just a rock and piece of steel!"

"So, that's what you did?" Marc smirked and tried to hold in his laughter against the feminine huffing Varun was doing beside him. "Marked your territory?"

"Claimed the bridge, actually," I stated. "In the name of the Southern Armies, I, Liswano, sixth son of the Mariner Lord Lisandro of Carminack doth claim this here mound of arched rubble…"

"You didn't say all that," Kentin snorted and rolled his eyes.

"He did," Ratherwood sighed in frustration. "Four times in truth." He then turned to me and gave me a confused look. "How much do you drink to stream that long anyway?"

"Well…"

"Enough!" Orleon snapped and slapped the table with his paw to regain order. "This is good news. We can march their camp. We can attack. And we will end this."

"Too many vermin," the old squirrel general, Declan stressed. "Our forces have weakened to fifteen hundred over the past two seasons of war. Reinforcements from the northern villages haven't arrived yet, nor have the Constillion merchants sent more supplies. Food is short. Moral is down…"

_I'm pretty sure morale is high,_ I mused as I remembered the past night I had with my pair of lassies. If even a quarter of the legionnaires had an eighth of the release I did… huh, they were on top of the world. The other three quarters- well, they would be pent-up enough by now to want to kill some beast. To me it was the perfect time to attack, but before I could offer up the true reasons, Rath beat me to it with a more diplomatic answer.

"Which is why we need to attack now," he said firmly and leaned on the table. "What better time to rally the legions into one final battle? We all want to go home. We all want to see our families again. New recruits will only slow us down anyway and if we're running out of food, we need to end this now!" He pummeled his fist into the oak for dramatic effect. Remember what I said about the other three-quarters of fighters? Exhibit A.

"As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, Legionnaire Ratherwood," Orleon responded plainly. "When we attack is up to us- not you. Besides, with this heat and heavy air, there's bound to be a storm coming."

"All the better," I retorted and rolled my shoulders in anticipation of strapping on my armour. "Rain will mask our scent. Thunder will drown out our drums."

"They would never expect an attack in a storm," Marc agreed with me and leaned back in his chair. Poor sea otter must be dying in this heat. Just the idea of getting back to Carminack so he could jump into that ocean had his paws practically dancing on the ground.

"We'd be fighting in the mud-" Arrlo argued.

"So would they," I said smartly and waited for their response. There was none. Orleon leaned over the arm of his chair to his squirrelguard.

"Alert the captains to prepare their legions for battle," he proclaimed. "Tomorrow at dawn, we march." As the squirrel left to do his bidding, the badger sat straight in his seat again and mulled us over for a moment. "You two tell the others of your legion to get ready for combat."

At the dismissal, both Rath and I turned to leave, but as we reached the exit I heard hushed whispers and Orleon's stern reply:

"Not yet. We'll see which one comes out alive."

* * *

"You're going to be too scared, lad."

"No, I'm not!"

"This isn't a raid," I chided and looked down sternly at the youngster as I continued to dress for the upcoming battle. "Florgin. Marc has said no. Ratherwood's said no. _I've_ said _NO._ Three no's is **_NO_**." I stressed and stretched it out as long as you can a two-letter word.

"Damned vermin killed my dad," he scowled, the early dawn light casting shadows on his features. They made him look older than he was and I had to remind myself of his age; but with that I also remembered how much he had suffered in that short span of life. "And they killed my mom."

"And I'm not going to let them kill you," I affirmed and then muttered under my breath, "for the one or two you might stab in the thigh." Damned brat punched me in the hip. Fike, it hurt. He was just at the right height for it too- always right between one bone and the pathway to another. "Easy, lad," I grunted out. "Watch where you're aimin'."

"We'll just track you, y'know," he snipped as if I hadn't spoken at all. "We'll follow the legions and hide in the trees until the fight- then we'll charge in anyway."

_"We?"_ I asked and knelt down to buckle on a greave.

"Me n' Flintin."

**_"NO!"_**

We argued for another fifteen minutes and I don't know what I was sweating more from; the heat, the suffocating weight of my armour or my sheer frustration at the snippet. I don't know how Florus did it- this mouse just never shut up!

"Florgin, you're not coming and that's final!" I yelled and several of the other legionnaires looked over at us and snickered. Mouselets. Bloody mouselets. Note to self: Always continue to pull out.

The little tripe rolled his eyes at me. "You can't tell me what to do, Lis!" he shouted back. "You aren't my dad! You aren't my captain! You have no say in what I do!"

"You get your tail to the tents or I'll trim it myself!" I ordered in an escalating voice, unsheathing one of my swords and chasing him a good ten paces back towards the pavilions. I snorted at him as he continued to the kitchen tent (no doubt to beg for a scrap or two from Dana), and then the little snip turned and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Ah!" I exploded and thrust my sword in the ground with the dramatic flair of a high paid performer. Second note to self: When even _remotely_ close to finishing, reposition to other entry ways to make sure reproduction _absolutely_ does not happen.

"Feeling the joys of fatherhood, eh Lis?" Grayson chuckled at me and crossed the ties of his heavy leather battle jerkin. "Just wait until you have four of them like that."

"If that day ever comes, Grayson, get Gowren to cut off my balls- I've done enough."

The group of mice laughed.

"Can we come, can we come, can we come…?" I grimaced at a new source of annoyance getting increasingly closer to me and at the tenth 'can we come,' I actually shivered.

**_"NO!"_** Ratherwood bellowed and I turned to see the little gray-eyed shadow following my friend right at his heels. Fates' Fire- where did they both learn to be insufferable?

And he didn't give up. "Can we come, can we come, can we come…?"

"Flintin!" Rath gasped in exasperation, spinning on his heel to knell in front of the young mouse. His chainmail coat clinked in his crouch, but it almost added a bit of melody to the bothersome chant. "Flintin- you and your brother can't come. This is battle. It's not a raid or a message run. Beasts are going to die and get hurt. We don't want you to be one of them. Do you understand?"

Rath always did have more patience than me when it came to young ones. I actually smirked at bit at the sight- it seemed quite a natural pose for him really. I felt my body just starting to relax when _he_ came bounding down the hill again.

"We won't get killed 'cuz we'll have these!" Florgin exclaimed and traipsed towards us with an armful of motley weapons.

"Oh, is that all it takes," I heard a mouse snigger off to the side. "I'm so relieved I have a sword- I'll see the sunrise tomorrow now!"

The mouselets ignored the jeers from the legionnaires and Florgin dumped the contents of his arms on the ground. Kitchen knives were shoved into their belts and Flintin stood still while his older brother buckled on Florus' old sword at the young one's waist. It was a short sword, luckily enough, but it would be too heavy for Flintin to swing for a long period of time. Both of them picked up the traveling poles they used to get here in the first place and Florgin tested the sharpness of the cut tip on his palm.

"Lads," I started with a sigh. "Come on, now. You're not coming. Stop this. You don't even have any armour."

"So?" Florgin shrugged and patted the hilt of his dirk. "If we're quick, we won't need it."

"You're not thinking with your heads," Ratherwood said sternly.

"Yes, we are," they replied in an irritating unison.

"Not the right ones," I put in. "You're thinking with your balls, lads, not your brains."

"Dana says we're too young to think with our balls," Flintin giggled and Florgin blushed as he was at that awkward stage where he was starting to feel where else blood could rush. "So there's only one head we can think with."

"I can't deal with this," I gaped. "Rath- make them stop."

He just ran his paw over his face. "We could tie them to a tree…"

"We'll get out," Florgin said defiantly. "We always wiggle out."

The army drums started pounding. Hellsgates. It was time to march. I was just thinking of a brilliant idea on how to keep them back at camp when their twined voices started chanting again…

"Can we come, can we come, can we come…?"

My idea was lost, we had no time, and my sanity was worth more than their hides anyway. I picked them both up by the collars of their shirts and flung them ahead of me into the thick of the formation.

"Yes, now _SHUT UP!_"

* * *

It was pouring by the time we hit the highroad. Thunder rumbled overhead and bolts of lightning streaked the sky. Forward we trudged through the muck and slime of the south road, blowing water droplets off our noses and slipping every fifth step. The mouse legion marched with the otters as we were under General Marc's direct command since we still didn't have a proper captain. He and General Orleon strode out in front with their personal retinue of otter and squirrel guards, then the otter legion and us; Declan and Arrlo were behind with a split legion of squirrels flanking Kentin's hedgehogs and Varun brought up the rear (as he liked to) with the forces from Constillion- a mixed rabble of well-trained warrior imposters. Oh, they looked and acted the part, but there was not a lot of thick blood between them. I heard Marc snicker to Arrlo once about making sure Varun's crew pulled up the back. When the other general asked why, my follow Deep Souther happily stated that he may not count on them to fight bravely for long, but he sure trusted them to scream like maids if they were attacked from behind. Such is the sad, bitter rivalries still apparent between our two cities- we would always get our digs in; no matter high or low.

Florgin and Flintin bounced between Rath and I; jumping over puddles and trying to trip each other into the mud. At one point I actually held Flintin up by the tail in front of me as we walked in a meagre attempt to stop the insanity. I thought it was good idea, until Florgin realized he could use him as a punching bag since the lad couldn't defend himself being held up like that. 'Gates. Third note to self: Shake my father's paw when I got home; I don't know how he dealt with all of us!

Once the marshes came in view, every beasts' demeanour changed. We made a long sweeping curve to the left and started marching towards the trees; another hour and we'd be at the bridge. Half an hour after that- we'd be at the meadow.

"Lads," I said sternly and tapped them on the tops of their heads with the shaft of my spear to get their attention. "You both know how to swallow fear?"

"Huh?" they both replied and gaped up at me, blinking as the rain stung their eyes. "What d'ya mean swallow fear?" Flintin added.

"Well, in a short matter of time you two are going figure out the hard way why we told you to stay behind," I answered plainly- there was no use trying to sweet coat it now. "When those generals give the signal- granted they don't catch the two of you before then- we're going to charge a raving band of loons that think we look better without our heads on our shoulders. They are going to try to kill you, and you have to do your best to kill them first, or take down as many as you can before you can't breathe anymore."

"It's like a raid, only bigger, Florgin," Rath interjected when they shifted their gaze to him. "And we won't have the element of surprise. Sure, they won't know we're coming until it's too late to do anything except form a line, but they'll be armed and remotely ready. Flintin, you haven't seen anything like it- it's not like sneaking in the shadows and hiding from random vermin on the road like when you deliver those missives; when we charge, there is nowhere to hide."

"That's when you'll get that big lump in your throat," I explained further. "When you realize you have nowhere to go, but forward- and when you go forward, there's no telling if you'll come out of it alive."

I looked down at them both, keeping my steps in time to the rest of the legion, refusing to let my own lump climb in my throat. It wasn't for my own life- I was quite comfortable with my abilities to keep my own neck intact, but them… How was I to protect them? Ensure their safety- or why the 'Gates I even felt I had to. They weren't mine in any way shape or form, yet I wanted to tell them everything was going to be alright. Then looking around I noticed the grim faces on all the rest of the beasts and oddly enough- I wanted to protect them too. All of them.

The brothers fought the fear in their eyes. They fought the lumps that rose in their throats; even Florgin who had seen combat before. Letting them see the fear I had for them would do none of them any good, but showing my courage might give them bravery.

"Ah, don't worry, lads," I guffawed, resting my spear across my shoulders so I could ruffle their ears with my free paw. "You stay between Ratherwood and I, and we'll make sure you two come out of this intact."

They gulped and turned their determined little faces to the forest ahead of us, stepping faster and a little more assuredly. Two down; two hundred more to go.

"We all will!" I shouted over the rains and the drums that beat around us. "Together we will all come out of this one way or another- only the Fates know our paths, but by my faith in the Seasons, I will make sure we last the charge." Turning to Rath, I set my jaw and squared my broad shoulders, and nodded.

"Together we march in and together we will march out," he called, taking up my call for bravery. "Together we will always come home. One way or another, a beast must always return home!"

The sky rumbled its approval, adding its voice to our cheer; a legion of mice, a legion of fighters hiding our fears and finding our bravery.

* * *

"Hold the line!" I screamed above the melee of battle, casting my broken spear to the side and drawing my twin blades from their sheaths across my back. Rolling them both back around my wrists, I started my assault on the snarling scum slopping through the mud towards me.

_Strike, block, stab. Twist out, spin, two paws down on an angle. Duck, slash forward, whip backwards, block, stab, turn…_

Faster I pushed my actions- calling my legion on, urging them forward. To the left I shouted encouragement. To the right, Ratherwood did. Together we led our leaderless throng into the fray of the left flank while Marc held the center with his otters and Kentin on the right with his hedgehogs. Together we fought the filthy hell spawn- foxes, ferrets, weasels… a pawful of stoats and the odd river rat. Together we delivered our promise.

Florgin and Flintin stayed between us. Fates' Fire, they even kept up to us in the charge. Brave lads they were- courageous even. More guts than most mice twice their ages combined. They growled and spat, ducked and slashed. Killed their eye teeth worth and injured the rest so Rath or I could finish them off.

I slipped in the mud and went down on one knee. I would have been run through by a stoat's spear, but Florgin's pole found its cut end in the vermin's neck first. Grunting, I pulled myself upwards, roaring and dashing forward again, driving us on.

I heard Marc calling, but I couldn't make out the words. The drums kept beating. I couldn't hear the horns. Drums meant forward. Horns meant retreat. Keep moving forward. Forward. Forward.

Our legion was the first to break the vermin line. With a great battle cry we charged into their camp, killing the worthless tripe, knocking over braziers and kicking embers onto tent flaps. Fire hissed against the deluge falling from the sky, their smoke and steam rising around us like we were fighting in the very clouds themselves- but clouds have monsters too.

They bolted towards us- a band of grey foxes with halberds and sabres- and caught us by surprise. My heart leapt in my throat and I barely had time to shout a warning before they were upon us. Flintin tripped over a log beside me and fell on his tail, giving a little yell when his own blade dropped on his thigh to slice him. Stepping in front of him, I ducked under a sabre and drove both my tips into the fox's gut, spitting in his face as he slid off my blades.

"On your paws, lad!" I commanded him and grasped both my swords in one paw so I could haul him to his footpaws. My left arm reached. His arm reached. Our paws almost touched as a halberd swept across my arm, slicing through my vambrace and carving off some of my flesh like it was a knife across a slab of butter.

I reared back, howling at the burning pain that seared over my forearm.

"You whoreson!" I cursed and slashed my blades at the air between us to drive him back. "Fiking inbred scum!"

"Lis!" Flintin screeched and scrambled to his paws. "Florgin!"

Out of nowhere the mouse leapt in front of me, deflecting the fox's next swing with his dirk and twisting towards the vermin, driving his blade into the scum's lower abdomen. Flintin grunted a swing at the tripe's leg, cutting him deep. I stabbed him through the chest.

"This way," I groaned and forced my left paw to grip one of my swords again. Pain resonated up my arm and blood dripped down on my paw, making my hold slick. I wouldn't be able to twist my blade for fear of dropping it, so I reversed it in my palm to hold the steel parallel with my arm. I couldn't stab with it, but I could slash.

"To me!" I yelled and rallied more mice to my sides. Ratherwood was already ahead of us sprinting towards the center with his axe held low, making a grand sweep upwards once they crashed with another band of vermin hastily trying to string their bows. Huh. He had a bit of style with that great hunk of steel.

"Forward!" I called to the rest of them before they could feel fear, feel doubt; feel anything except the courage I was showing my legion. "Forward for Southsward!"

We charged forward. I heard fletch speeding past my ears, but we kept running forward.

"Southsward!" I roared when were upon them. Downwards I slashed with my right blade across the upper body of a ferret before I cut his throat with my left, twisting with my follow through to nail a punch into the snout of a weasel before I gutted him. Smoke swirled about my movements, rain from above mixed with my blood, my calls for valour mingled with shouts of hope.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

Forward for Southsward. Forward for tomorrow. Forward for my friends.

* * *

Two days later raucous cheers vibrated through the marshes when Ratherwood and I stepped out of the generals' tent. New blue cloaks flapped about our shoulders in the gusting wind, pride puffing out our bandaged chests and meek smiles curling up the corners of our mouths. We were captains. Both of us. Captains of the Mouse Legion of the Southern Armies. Our bravery won us victory and titles.

I held up my right paw in a fist above my head, causing a louder rumble from the legionnaires. My left arm was wrapped up tight and strapped to my chest in a sling, but my joy drowned out its ache. I looked at Rath and we both laughed at each other and I gave him a shove with my shoulder. Together we walked down the path, accepting congratulations as we went and I even had to kick at those two ruddy mouselets to get out our way as they bounced excitedly in front of us. I shook my head at them. They already had they bandages dirty. 'Gates. Could they never stay out of trouble?

I found myself starting to take in the other fighters' conditions, particularly any mice. My mice. My legionnaires. I laughed aloud again and inwardly berated myself for fussing like an ol' hogwife. Guess Marc's words were true-

_"Your legion is your family,"_ he told Rath and I as we were handed our cloaks. _"When you become a captain, you become its father. Congratulations. You'll never sleep without worry again!"_

"What are you laughing at now?" Ratherwood snorted at me.

"Oh, just something that Mar…" I stopped mid-sentence as a smell fluttered to me on the breeze. I knew that scent. Lavendar… and, one more sniff… mint? Twisting around, I just caught the glimpse of a dress skirt and a beautiful piece of tail slipping behind a tent.

"Er, Rath- take the lads and get some ale, will ya?" I smirked and turned to trot towards the pavilions.

"Lis!" Rath called, but I waved him off. I had some private, er, semi-private celebrating to do first.

* * *

**C/N: Right- now, while I'm off enjoying some recreational activity, get yourselves a piece o' parchment and quill and jot down a few notes for the ol' author, eh? She's getting awfully cranky about lack of reviews or something stupid like that, but beside that- Rath, Florgin, Martin and I have a little side bet on whose story is going to get the most reviews, and I don't like to lose- SO GET REVIEWING! There's ale and tail on the line here- that's serious stuff!**

**... Aha... sorry, about Lis, everyone. He can be a bit... well, he's his own mouse, we'll just leave it at that; ****_but_**** what he said is true... PLEASE REVIEW! :) **


	21. Duty,Honour,Bravery-Part3:Resp onsibilit...

**Alright, so I couldn't figure out for the life of me why I had no reviews for this chapter, and then I realized in all the kerfuffle of travel, etc. I forgot to post it! Oops! Sorry, y'all!**

**So without much intro- here's Part 3 of Liswano's tale...**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery- Part 3: Weight of Responsibility**

_"Learn to distinguish the difference between errors of knowledge and breaches of morality. An error of knowledge is not a moral flaw, provided you are willing to correct it; only a mystic would judge human beings by the standard of an impossible, automatic omniscience. But a breach of morality is the conscious choice of an action you know to be evil, or a wilful evasion of knowledge, a suspension of sight and of thought. That which you do not know, is not a moral charge against you; but that which you refuse to know, is an account of infamy growing in your soul. Make every allowance for errors of knowledge; do not forgive or accept any break of morality."_  
- Ayn Rand, _Atlas Shrugged -_

* * *

"Ooh, Li-is…" the sensual voice of a doe-eyed maid whispered in my ear as I lay half asleep on the straw mattress. I just opened one eye to the sound and smiled at her lying on her stomach, her chin resting on her palms and her footpaws crossed in the air above her back. Her tail flicked back and forth in a suggestive manner and I guffawed when she bit her lip in anxious anticipation of another round.

"Is there something that you would like, Eilana?" I said nonchalantly, like I had no idea what was on her mind at all.

"Sibyl."

"Right, Sibyl," I corrected myself and continued my game. "Can I help you with something?"

"Possibly," she lilted and batted her eye lashes. "That is, I don't know when you will be back again and well, sometimes the nights are long and cold."

I snorted my response and looked at her. There was no way she had any cold nights with a curve to her like that. "That is something I highly doubt, lassie."

She just curled her lips into an easy smile. "So, that's a yes then?"

"Not tonight," I said softly and rolled over to run a claw down her spine to make her shiver. I loved how their bodies responded to my touch. "It's all I can do to stay awake right now. You've exhausted me!"

Kira pouted and huffed a little whine, but I didn't give in. Instead, I rolled off the bed and gave her paw a kiss like she was a proper lady.

"I need to get going back to the encampment," I informed her and looked about the floor for my shirt. I was pretty sure it was somewhere by the end of the bed. "I don't want the trackers to chop my tail when they notice I'm missing."

"I don't want that to happen either," she jested, getting out of bed and retrieving my shirt and tunic from their tousled heap by the dry sink to pass into my waiting paws. Right- that's where they ended up…

"How did you sneak out of there anyway?" Sasha questioned and picked up her own clothes from the floor. "I thought the army was strict about where their legionnaires went."

"They are," I smirked. "A perk of being a captain is I'm not as watched as the regulars, though I am stretching the limits a bit here."

"And you needed a good roll in the sheets that bad, that you risked disgrace and maiming?" she giggled.

_Yes,_ I thought to myself and concentrated on keeping my face expressionless. _I needed to escape and bought love was still a form of love…_

"What can I say, lassie," my jovial voice announced on its own. "Your reputation precedes you."

She seemed pleased with my statement and I tossed my shirt over my head, tying the neck strings loosely and slipping my arms into my tunic. Lifting my belt from the floorboards, I took four silvers from my leather pouch and held them out to her.

"Thank-you," she said meekly and accepted the coins with a little blush. It doesn't matter how experienced you are, the ending transaction is always awkward as Hellsgates. I grumbled out a sort of 'you're welcome' and fitted the leather to my waist while she took a flask from her satchel, unscrewing it and taking a long drink- by the grimace on her face and the herby smell to the air, I could only guess what the concoction was.

With a sigh, I threw my blue captain's cloak over my shoulders and secured the clasp under my chin. "Do you have a place to stay?" I asked and she cocked her head towards me.

"I stay here at the inn," she responded with a little surprise to her voice. I suppose it wasn't everyday she encountered a male that cared… slightly.

"And food?"

"You just paid me."

"It doesn't mean you'll use it to eat with," I said matter-of-factly. I knew how these brothels worked. Loulen owned two; one in Carminack and one out on the south islands in a town called Kenelsburg. My father definitely did not know about them- but all of us brothers did… frequently. Still, the fact remained she needed to pay for her room and any drink she used to sweeten a male up with (or dull her own senses), not to mention the commission the owner of the 'inn' took from her.

"Bianca…"

"Sibyl." Sibyl, Bianca, Sasha, Kira, Eilana- a name's a name right?

"Sibyl, Sibyl," I corrected myself again. "I saw a plain tavern down the street. Come past it with me and I'll buy you some dinner."

"I don't need you to buy me supper," she scoffed in attempt to stop her mouth from saying yes. "I have my own coin…"

"Yes, but if I pay for the meal than you don't have to," I pointed out. "I'm going that way anyways."

"I-" she started to agree, but then stopped herself. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Then take this," I offered and held out five coppers. "It'll buy you some bread and a bowl of soup if nothing else."

She hesitated. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," I breathed while Sibyl stared at me as if waiting for an explanation. "Just take the coins, lassie- see they go to good use."

I turned my paw over hers to discard the coppers into her palm and turned to leave the room.

"Thank-you," she whispered. "You have a kind heart, m'lord."

I froze at the title and spun around to look at her. Suppose the surprised expression on my face was enough to tell her she guessed right.

"Not many males would pay me so easily or speak so kindly- or speak at all," she said as her cheeks flushed. "No beast has ever kissed my paw before…" she stopped and forced a plain look on her features. "I mean, your clothes are too fine for you to be a commoner and… _your_ reputation precedes you too, m'lord."

"Don't call me that, lassie," I muttered in a forced tone of neutrality and clenched my teeth. "I'm not a lord."

"But…"

I didn't wait for her to finish her sentence and strode out of the chamber, across the long hallway and down the stairs to the bustling great room of the 'inn' where other males were drinking merrily at their tables and waiting for their turn in the upper chambers. I glanced over their faces and resisted the growl that bubbled in my throat. Tradebeasts. Every single one of them looked like some sort of smug-nosed tradebeast with probably a wife and young ones waiting for them to come home after a long day of 'work.' And they say us fighters are lower than tripe. At least we don't lie about where our workbenches truly were.

The clouds had closed up since I entered the brothel and rain fell from the sky to bounce off the dirt roads and back down into their puddles. I pulled the hood up on my cloak and jumped from the threshold and into the muck, walking in a hurried pace towards the trees to the west. There wasn't much daylight left and with the rain I wouldn't be able to follow my tracks back to camp, so I had to hurry. I must have stepped in five puddles and cursed each one before I started avoiding them, but I wasn't really paying attention; I had too much going through my mind.

_M'lord,_ she called me. _M'lord! _Ha! What did she know? Nothing. She knew nothing about it. Nothing!

How could she understand it? How could she even fathom the idea of being noble or what it meant to be one? Oh ya, sure… Duty, Honour and Bravery- whoop-dee-do. Duty to our cause- what cause…

_"It's alright, Rykker- Gowren will be quick…"_

_ "Don' let 'em take me leg, Captain Lis, please… How am I t' teach me daughter how'da walk, when I c'n't… please, please- jus' sen' me home fer me wife t' heal me… please- AHHH!"_

Honour for our family- what family…

_"Uncle Lis- lookit me!" Leif said excitedly as he held his arms out for the barest of seconds, balancing on his crooked legs before he wobbled and was forced to put his crutches down again so he could continue to stand. "I've been practicing. Da says he can take me out on a ship once I can stand on my own, cuz it's too dangerous to use my props on deck in case I slip and go overboard."_

_ "Is that so, laddie?" I chuckled and gave my favourite (and only) nephew a wink. "Well, your Pop is right, though hopefully you have Lars' stomach for the sea and not mine!"_

_ "I will," he said determinedly and toddled over to the window of his hidden chamber in the north tower of the manor. "If I'm on a ship, she can't call me the crippled bastard anymore and I won't have ta hide up here for the rest of my life…"_

Bravery for ourselves- what self…

_"Liswano, it's time you stopped living this foolish escapade and started acting like the noble mouse you are!" Pop yelled at me. "There are no vermin left- the army is going to have to dissolve and we must prepare for the changes that will occur. We must be ready- you have an obligation to this family…"_

_ "I have done nothing but _oblige_ this family!" I snapped back. "Do you think I enjoy getting my head swung at?"_

_ "You are a part of this family Liswano, and you will act like it," he asserted in a cool tone. "You know I am splitting the lordship- Laec will take on the old title as Carminack's Hearth Lord, Lars will be the Mariner Lord. Loulen is to be an Alderbeast while the two useless wonders are going to be portmasters on the islands. You will go to Constillion and oversee our family's interest there as Master of Trade and ensure fair prices and goods for Lars…"_

_ "I'm not some trumped out pompous arse-hole, Pop," I exclaimed. "I'm a Captain in the Southern Armies- I control beasts not trinkets and coin…"_

_ "You will do what you're told-"_

_ "-I will not!"_

A low rumble of thunder rolled above me and it took me a moment to realize the sound was coming from the clouds and not from the snarls I was uttering through my curled lips. I had no duty left for my cause, I lost honour in my family and I couldn't be brave for myself when I was a puppeteer of obligation. I was lost and all I knew was that I wanted nothing to do with what I had been and no clue how to make myself what I would become. But I wouldn't show any beast my confusion. Showing meant explaining and explaining meant telling and telling took words I didn't have. No, it was much easier just to take all those feelings and push them down into my gut.

I walked for about an hour before I realized I was being tailed.

_Fiking trackers,_ I mentally growled and started walking faster. I really didn't have the build to sport a short tail.

Trotting up a short incline, I turned round a pile of rocks, slinking against them and pulling my cloak around me in hopes they would think me a boulder and bugger off. I waited for the sound of pawsteps, but nothing came except...

"Ouch!" I exclaimed as a rock hit me square between the ears and _giggles_ sounded above me. I should have known.

Dropping my hood back with the flick of my head, I shielded my eyes against the rain to spy the two little tripes sitting on top of the rocks. "A little late for you two to be gallivanting around isn't it, Florgin?"

"Nope," he replied in an annoyingly unhelpful tone as he tossed and caught another rock in his right paw. "Still light out."

"Barely," I retorted and reached up to pull both him and Flintin down to the ground. The pair of them were covered in mud and soaked to the bone. They must have been out here for hours traipsing about the woods. "What are you two doing away from camp?"

"Tryin' t'find you," Flintin said quickly. "The trackers got sent out after the meal cart went around and you weren't back yet."

"Ratherwood sent us, cuz we wouldn't be as missed as he or the others would be," Florgin added. "They're looking for a group from Darlkirk that slipped away around midday, but if they find you they'll…"

"Well, well," a snickering voice teased behind me. "What do we have here?"

"It depends," I snarked back and pushed the two young ones closer together so my body shielded them. "Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

Whipping around I saw Daecon and his tracking party of five other squirrels, each holding their javelins tipped towards us. 'Gates, hadn't Arrlo taught them anything?

Daecon chose to ignore my comment. "Captain Liswano- fancy seeing you out here in the rain. And with the Scrappers, no doubt? What're you doing this far from camp and without orders?"

"Doing your job," I snorted. "Looking for the bunch from Darlkirk? They're in the broth… Er, inn an hour east of here."

There was silence. "How'd you know that?"

"Cause I saw them, you stupid lumps of fur!" I grumbled. "But, fine- don't believe me. Stay here and let them get even further away before you realize you made a mistake." At their unsure glances towards one another, I continued, "Guess you could always drag me and the lads back, say you found us instead, but I'd hate to be you when I tell Orleon why I was off camp and that you didn't have the sense to go after what I saw."

Daecon shifted on his footpaws. "Alright, so you saw the deserters. What are the whelps doing out here?"

"Part of my disguise," I said. "So I looked more like a father out for a stroll with his lads, instead of a snitch."

"Everybeast would see your weapons and know…"

"Do you see any?" I pressed and spun myself in a slow circle with my paws wide. "Didn't bring any so creatures would think I was a humble farmer." In truth, I left them behind so that it appeared like I was still somewhere around camp- not many beasts were brazen enough to trot about without arms after all.

"Er, well, no," Daecon relented. "Er, sorry Captain. I suppose we'll be on our way…"

"East," I affirmed and just to confuse them, I pointed south. "Follow the river until the ledge then jump down to the meadow."

"Right you are, Captain," Daecon nodded and motioned for the group to follow him in the direction I gestured to at a stiff jog.

"Blind, stupid and deaf," I mumbled to myself as I watched them go before sighing and turning back to the young mice behind me. "Alright you two, that's got them right flustered- let's get back to camp."

"You pointed them the wrong way," Florgin stated as we started to walk again. "You said to go east, but pointed them south."

"Did I?" I mused with mocking air. "Huh, so I did. Oh well, they'll get turned around soon enough."

"You did it on purpose," Flintin snipped at me. "That's lying."

"No lads, that's lending a beast a paw," I proclaimed. "Darlkirk is north of here and if those trackers go south and then east before those tree-jumpers figure out they've been had, those creatures may just get their hides' outta range before they can catch them."

"But why did they leave?" Florgin pushed and happily moved closer to me when I opened my cloak from them to share. "Don't they believe in our cause anymore?"

"And what cause would that be, Florgin?"

"To fight vermin and keep everybeast safe," he sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his paw.

I contemplated what I could, or rather should tell them. The fluffy tale they deserved all coated with honey and rose petals, or the cold hard truth of beasts clinging to power they no longer held in tents filled with empty purposes.

"Yes, but sometimes a beast just needs to go home," I replied, not really answering the question not wholly asked.

* * *

_I walked silently down the damp stairwell of the manor foundations with two hare guards holding lanterns in front of me and two behind wielding spears. I had no weapon except for a long curved dagger in my paw. It was a simple blade without even a blood channel and an edge so sharp a whisker could be sliced in two out of the air with it. If it ever had a sheath, it was lost over time- but that didn't matter now. It was only ever used for one purpose and once it was over, it went back to its holder in the wooden chest in my father's study; to be forgotten about until this type of task had to be completed again._

_ "I say, youn' bean, you know why it has to be you, eh?" Sargent Bushfeathers said quietly as he stepped in time beside me in our descent. Slipping slightly on the stairs, the old hare steadied himself on the dripping rock wall to his left. "Liswano-?"_

_ "Because I'm the Mariner Lord's son," I reiterated with a blank expression. "A sentence given is a sentence made. My father passed judgement; it must be one of his line to see it finished."_

_ "Jolly good recital, I say, but what I was referring to is of the more specific means, wot!" I was silent, ol' Bushy sighed. "It's got to be you because you served under the seadog's banner. Liswano, you are the extension of your father's ruling and your commander's arm- clear as mud, eh?"_

_ I nodded in the darkness and continued our journey until we made it to the old cells at the bottom of the stairs. Rusted shackles and chains hung from the walls; rotten wood tables and broken devices littered the area from eras long past when force was used as a means of power. It chilled my blood to think of my ancestors as barbaric torturers, but then what was I about to become? Many a justice had been served beneath these stones and now I was about to add my name to it the roster._

_ "Did they get anything out of him?" I said in a voice I barely recognized as my own. "I know they were trying… at least to find out who he got poison from."_

_ The hare's ears curled in and his whiskers wiggled as he searched for words. "He doesn't say much, 'cept laugh." I gave a curt flick of my head in acknowledgement. "I say, ol' chap- just do it quickly. It'll be easier for you to do it, and then leave. We'll handle the rest, wot."_

_ The cell was dank and cheerless. Fresh straw was placed in one corner and I stepped on a plate of untouched food. At least my father was feeding him- or trying._

_ "Mama?" I shivered at the sweet innocent voice. "Mama- is that you?"_

_ I spun round to my left and saw a mouselet, not ten seasons old staring at me with large round eyes. I wasn't expecting one so young… or so gentle looking._

_ "'Scuse me, sir-" he said at my silence and twisted his whiskerless nose. "Is my Mama coming to get me? She told me to wait for her by the door. I waited, sir- honest I did, but Mama ne'er came back…"_

_ I tightened the grip on my dagger._

_ "Am I in trouble? I'm always getting in trouble for things I can't remember," he muttered, sitting on his bottom and rocking back and forth. "Papa told Mama to get rid of me. Papa said… sir- can I go home now?"_

_ "Where is home, lad?" I whispered, not trusting my full voice._

_ "In a cottage by the sea," he smiled. "Papa is a fishermouse and Mama makes baskets from the reeds that grow in the bay."_

_ "Do you know your parents' names?" _

_ "Mama and Papa."_

_ "What's your name, lad?" _

_ "Mine or his?"_

_ A chill trickled down my spine again. "Whose?"_

_ "Him," he said and pointed to his shadow cast from the torchlights at the entrance. "Tynan."_

_ "Tynan," I repeated. "Your shadow is named Tynan?"_

_ "He's not a shadow!" the lad snapped and glared at me; all the previous serenity gone from his countenance. "He's _real._ Tynan is _real!"

_ "And what's _your _name?" I stressed and fought a shiver._

_ "Garyth."_

_ "Garyth- you know you killed those maidens," I stated and resisted the urge to step back when he rose to his footpaws again. "And Lady Stalwallows. You killed them with poison."_

_ "Tynan did," he sighed and started hitting himself over his head with his paws. "Tynan killed them. I didn't want to- Tynan made me. Said it would be fun to watch. Stupid Tynan. Stupid Tynan."_

_ He pulled at his ears, making himself scream in pain. "Garyth- stop it!" I commanded, but he didn't stop and started snarling and clawing at his face and neck._

_ "Garyth cries for his Mama," the young one sneered at himself. "Garyth cries for his sisters. Stupid Garyth. Stupid otter lady trying to make nicey-nice. Stupid maids playing tea thinking rags are silk. Stupid mouse coming to visit, trying to be Garyth's friend…"_

_ "Mouse coming to visit?" I said quickly, my pulse racing that I may find out the missing piece to the puzzle. "What mouse came to visit you- er- Garyth? When? Where?"_

_ The mouselet sat back down and took up rocking again, holding himself now and crying. "Just go away!" he sobbed. "I don't want you to visit me anymore!"_

_ "Lad, I'm just trying to help you." I don't know why I said it, I was sent down there to… _

_ "Garyth, just wants a friend," he said in a low voice and I realized he wasn't talking to me. "Tynan is your only friend. Other beasts don't understand and throw rocks and shells at you… They didn't understand our fun when we tied the maid to the rock for the gull to get…"_

_ My eyes grew large and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. This mouse was insane._

_ "Go away!" Garyth screeched. "I don't want you as my friend. Mama said I was her little gentle mouseling. She used to rock me to sleep at night so the shadows wouldn't get me…"_

_ "Mama's not here," his low voice answered back with an eerie singsong voice. "Mama can't keep us safe anymore. Only Tynan can keep us safe."_

_ "You're wrong," Garyth's voice quivered back, before it changed again- "I'm right. Tynan will protect you from the bad mouse, Garyth. The bad mouse with the knifezie in his paw."_

_ Those large eyes looked up at me again. "Bad mouse," he muttered at me. "Mwhee hehe. Bad mouse, bad mouse… bad mouse. Bad mouse. Bad mouse!" His eyes changed to darts as his voice rose in a deranged cackle that echoed off the stone and caused the very droplets on the walls to freeze with fright. He lunged at me, leaping onto my chest and sinking his teeth into the base of my neck. I gave a startled shout and ripped him off my flesh, holding him at arms-length from me. The creature snarled, blood dripping off his teeth and chin, reaching for me with those wild eyes. I lifted my right paw and pulled the dagger across its mark… They gulped and writhed for a moment in my grip and I dropped everything in my paws, slipping on the red ground and scrambling backwards… Air ran from my lungs, blood stilled in my heart, Bushy yelled my name to my ears…_

I opened my eyes to the stars blinking dimly above me in the lightening sky and the sounds of the crackling fire and snores of my fellow fight beasts surrounding me at all sides. The wind whisked through the trees, creaking the branches and rustling the leaves with its motion. I took a deep breath of clean, fresh air and wiggled my body against the dirt of the forest floor. A dream. A dream of nothing more than a memory to be slammed into the back of my mind and forgotten about. Just another thing for us _lords_ to be proud of being- child murderers.

I sat up and stretched, looking about the camp at all the sleeping forms around the fires. Fresh smoke started to waft from the fires in the kitchen tents and soon breakfast slop would reek the air and wake up the rest of the fighters with its assurance of an afternoon bellyache; but for now, everything was quiet and oddly peaceful, except for one little figure knelt holding something up to the morning light.

"Florgin," I whispered and got to my footpaws to move closer to him. "Florgin, what are you going up this early? What are you doing, laddie?"

"Fixing something," was his reply and I watched him slip a small piece of thread through the eye of a stitching needle he must have lifted from the healers.

"Fixing what?"

"Flintin has another hole in his shirt," he mumbled and I watched as he carefully started sewing up the torn fabric at the elbow of his brother's still sleeping form.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I chuckled under my breath as I watched him seal up the rip with surprise ability.

"S'not much to it," he shrugged. "I just figured it out is all." There was a silence between us before he spoke again. "Captain Lis- why aren't we fighting?"

"I guess, there's nothing here to fight," I responded honestly. Florgin pierced his lips.

"We only get paid our coins if we fight."

"Right you are, laddie."

He leaned down and bit off the thread before tucking the needle and what remained of his spool in the pocket of his stain vest that had once been some sort of jerkin before he tore the sleeves off it to make patches for their other clothes. "I was going to use our coins to buy Flintin a new shirt," he confessed. "I can barely stitch this one anymore- fabric is too worn.

"Lis, if we don't fight, we won't get paid," he said plainly to me. "And if we don't get paid- how are any of us supposed to live? How am I to look after my brother if I can't… All I know how to do is fight and if I can't fight, how do I make sure we don't starve?"

"Ah, don't worry your head about it, lad," I mumbled and ruffled his ears to cheer him up. "We'll fight soon. And I won't let you starve."

"Maybe not me and Flintin," he said plainly and gestured around to the rest of the legion. "But what about Rowik or Carik- Grayson, Thom, Shaffer, Birkley, or even Gowren and all the others? Dana said half the fighters showed up and only half the food. They took half to the markets to sell for more coin, but prices were low and they hardly got anything…"

"I won't let any of you starve," I affirmed and put a strong paw on his shoulder. "None of you, do you hear me?" He didn't look convinced. "I'm your captain, Florgin. You have to believe me whether you want to or not."

He laughed a bit at that. "Guess so, Captain."

"Well, it's another good hour before breakfast is made," I grumbled and rubbed my growling stomach. "What should we do to pass the time?"

"We could gather firewood."

"Or…" I smirked and picked up a wooden bucket some beast had forgotten to take back to the supply tent. "We could take this bucket, fill it with water from the stream and dunk it on Ratherwood's head."

With both grinned at each other and raced to the water.

* * *

Two hours and one right pissed off friend later (and an entire legion of laughing mice might I add) I was walking with said disgruntled companion to a meeting in the Generals' Pavilion.

"I can't believe you squealed like that, Rath," I sniggered, keeping my gaze straight in front of me. "Bit like a maid…"

"That water was freezing!" he shot back. "Just you wait until the next time you sleep in… or better yet- next time you're having a good rut, I'll toss a bucket on you and watch who _squeals_ when something shrinks up!"

"You're not that mean," I smiled. "Ah, come on, Rath- it was all in good fun. Nothing like a morning bath to freshen you up for the day!"

Ratherwood grumbled his response and I laughed at his attempt to swear and be curt. One thing my friend and I were different on; Rath still always thought before he spoke and you could practically see the pulleys and levers working about his brain- thinking up an insult and then calculating the severity of the blow… Oh fike, his process was always more comical than his punch line.

We came to the pavilion and strode through the opened tent flaps, I was surprised to see Ratherwood and I weren't the only captains there. Every legion's captain was present, as were all five generals, the scribes, coin counters…

"What is this all about?" Ratherwood murmured and gave me a puzzled glance. "What's Orleon cooking up now?"

I exhaled at the weight that came thumping down on my shoulders.

_"It'll be Marc who will be the one to end it," Pop said as he watched me pack my haversack from the doorway. "He's the only general with the sense to know when the end has come. The others will be against it- they don't want to lose what power and wealth they have. You must support Marc if he announces the army disbanded…"_

"I think this is going to be a short talk," I replied and tipped my head towards the table where Marc was gesturing for us all to sit around. "Don't get too comfortable."

"What do you know?" he hissed at me, grabbing my arm to hold me back. "Lis- do you know what is going on?"

"The general idea," I said back to him in a hushed tone. "Pop told me some things before I left the manor… I've heard the alderbeasts' meetings…"

"Alderbeasts?" Rath gasped. "What has alderbeasts got to do with an army meeting-" The realization quickly dawned on him.

"Take a sit, please, take a sit," General Marc insisted loudly, breaking off any possible side conversations and bringing us all under his attention. He looked to both his sides as we sat our rumps down in the wooden chairs and squared his shoulders against the blank expressions from our other four fearless leaders. He looked at me and I nodded. Like I said before, I trusted Marc Stalwallows judgement and I… well, I was a lord and had a _duty_ to my family to represent the best interests of Carminack. I pierced my lips together and swallowed any emotion or thought down against the bubbling tension boiling inside me and replayed comforting words over and over again through my mind. _Brave beasts hide their fear and will only show their courage._

And so I bucked up my inner torment and showed my courage for my last act as a lord, and my second last stint as a captain.

* * *

"They can't do that!"

"What are we going to do?"

"There are more vermin out there somewhere- we just have to find them!"

"Are we getting paid?"

"What are we supposed to do for work?"

"How am I going to feed my family, huh?"

Questions and angry statements rallied against Ratherwood and I as we broke the news to our legion: The Southern Armies were disbanded. The legionnaires were to disperse back to their homes and villages. No longer would there be conscriptions or trials; call-to-arms or marches for seasons on end. Creatures could actually eat the food they grew at their own table and hang their weapons in back closets where they could rust and tarnish with age. There was reason for them to worry, yes, but strong leadership would bring about the light again.

"You will all get paid something!" Ratherwood proclaimed loudly over the hollers. "No beast will leave here bare-pawed, but you must have patience! The counters are dividing the coin and each creature will have their pension."

"But what if they attack again!" a middle aged mouse shouted and he pointed his two-clawed paw at me. "The villages can't stand alone…"

"There hasn't been a sizeable attack since the Battle of Clapsbay!" I said sternly and eyed them all into a grumbling silence. "The Commander routed the rat's forces and destroyed their stronghold. He and our forefathers pushed them back into the seas where they belong and though the gray foxes tried to achieve what the rats couldn't- we gave them a sound defeat in the marshes of the Two Seasons' March. We killed Ramsseu Ashe in that battle; we've killed all his leftover scum over the last three seasons. There are no other vermin to fight- only peace to finally be enjoyed!"

They were not overly convinced and I couldn't say as though I blamed them. It seemed ridiculous to the point of a joke told over a campfire with a good mug of ale. The Southern Armies disband? Pah!

"But whadda we do with ourselves now?" another piped up. "We've been fighters all our lives. Whadda we do now we can't do that no more?"

"You can learn a trade," Ratherwood said simply. "You can be farmers. Travel and see the rest of the land. You can enjoy your lives; watch your ch-children grow." He always stuttered on that word.

"We've won the war, lads!" I called over their heads and raised my arms, trying to get them to toss aside their apprehensions and relish in our victory. "We've won the war- Southsward is finally free!"

Cheers and smiling faces mingled with looks of angst and fidgeting paws. Mixed emotions were as expected as panic was to change, but at the end of this mess there was bound to be good. There had to be. After another hour of reassuring, our leg- I mean, the mice went about their own business, I daresay _excitedly_ planning their travels home for the following day or what they were going to do with the rest of their _peaceful_ days. A few of the smart ones moved up to the counters' tents and started forming a line- they were going to get their sorry rumps outta camp as soon as possible.

"So the army is over," Ratherwood stated beside me as we watched the crowds piddle away. "Our victory had. I guess its true when they say winning is a humble beasts' defeat."

"Because all you want to do is jump up and down like a mouselet?" I jested with him. "You know, Rath, you can _show_ emotion."

"I do," he smiled. "It's you who hides everything." The grin slipped from my lips. "So. I suppose tomorrow you're off to Constillion."

I snapped my head around at him. "Like I didn't know what was happening?" he continued. "Lis, I'm friends with more of your family than just you."

"Fiking twits," I grimaced and batted the back of their imaginary heads.

"It wasn't Leland or Latimer," he retorted with a sly smile and started to walk away with a bit of a swagger. I knew that walk.

"You- You… _Ratherwood!" _I roared at his back. "Those are my sisters!"

"I didn't do anything to them, Lis," he replied over his shoulder. "It was a simple gesture for information."

"I can just imagine what gesture that was!"

"A kiss on the lips-sa-cheek and promise to keep you safe in lieu of finding out what had you stomping around Carminack like at angry stripedog," he said in earnest and sauntered into our campsite. "Lema told me what Lord Lisandro is planning on doing and his command that you go to Constillion. They knew you aren't happy about it, so they came to me."

"And what are you going to do about it?" I huffed. "Hold my paw and tell me everything is going to be alright?"

"Kick your arse and point you west," my friend sighed and started gathering his things. "Lis, you're lucky you have something to go to after this. Your father was smart to plan for this and make sure all of you were secure. Don't spit at the paw that feeds you."

"I don't want to do this, Rath," I confessed finally and plunked my tail down on a log. "I'm sick of being a que piece for my family. It's what I've been my whole life."

"You could have fooled me!"

"I'm serious!" I snipped. "I'm not my own mouse…"

"You're whining."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

I shut up for a change and kicked dirt at the smoldering logs. "Are you going back to Carminack?"

Ratherwood stopped his packing and looked at me. "No."

"Come to Constillion with me then."

"I would," he smirked. "And I probably should, if only to make sure you didn't get your tail tied somewhere, but no. I have different plans in mind."

"You going to try and catch a ship to that island your Pop was from?" I questioned quietly.

"No, I still have duty to uphold here."

"Duty?" I laughed. "There's no duty left- army's done, Rath."

"I still have a duty to my legionnaires," he explained to me. "I'm a captain first and foremost, Lis. I have to make sure they all get settled and find their way."

"You should have been born an ol' hogwife," I scoffed. "They're grown mice. They can find their own way."

"Not all of them," he mumbled and tipped his head towards a group of newbies with worried faces. "Some of them don't even have homes to go to. They were stationed in the barracks, but as I understand from Larissa that is being fashioned into Laec's new manor as we speak, is it not?"

"My sisters stay well informed I see," I snorted. "So where are you going to go?"

"North, I think."

"Find a village and settle down maybe?"

"Maybe," he chortled and pulled out a linen bag from his haversack. "But first I've got to get as much coin as possible for my journey!"

I shook my head at him. "Ratherwood, no beast has any coin yet- they aren't going to play Heranic!"

"The generals do!" he argued and gave me a wink. "And I intend to take it all from them before the day is through.

"Florgin!" he called and out of nowhere the little scrapper materialized. "Wanna earn some more coin?" The young mouse nodded enthusiastically. "Right then- let's go see if Orleon really does cry when he loses his gold lusters!"

The next morning dawned bright and hot. There was no burning smell from the kitchen tents. There were no fluttering green banners streaming from the tops of pavilions. Beasts were already rolling up canvases and shouldering packs, loading carts and making farewells. I stuffed my shirts and armour into my haversack in silence, my mind reeling with thoughts that had kept me up all night. _Duty, Honour, Bravery. Duty, Honour, Bravery._

As I traipsed out into the center of what had been the mighty encampment of the Southern Armies of Southsward, I took a glance about the humbling hollowness around me. To the south lay Gen- er, Lord Varun and the rest of the Constillion contingent preparing for the journey down to the south western capital; to the north stood a motley group of fighters, about sixty of them in truth, all crested around Ratherwood as he smiled and said his usually high fluted philosophical words of encouragement. He saw me and held up a paw in farewell and I did the same to him, recollecting all the troubles we had been in together and memories we made. Laughter, friendship and brotherhood- that's what Rath and I created over the years and that was a true bond nothing could ever break. Letting out a long sigh I took a few steps towards the south; towards other memories of schemes, injustice and harsh reality. But then it dawned on me. Duty. Honour. Bravery. I still had a cause to be dutiful to- a duty to my mice. I still had honour in my family- my new family standing at the northern edge of the clearing. I still had bravery to give- my time as a fighter was not over yet.

Without a second thought I sprinted up to the others, muscling my way beside Ratherwood and giving Rowik a playful shove out of the way and a ruffle to Flintin's ears.

"Alright, lads- what ol' long-wind here is trying to say is..." I pulled my sword from its sheath and pointed to the north. "Let's go home."

* * *

**Just a couple notes on this segment...**

**Firstly, yes, I know the beginning quote is rather long, but it is such a good one, I didn't want to splice it.**

**Secondly, this was a VERY hard chapter for me to write. See, this is Lis' transition piece where he more or less grows up. He's still his same funny-lovin' tail-chasin' character, but he has started to feel the weight of his responsibilities (hence the title). Also, this segment was original four chapters- 5,000 words each and I cut it down to one of 7,000, so yes there are a few parts that I could have expanded on, but they are more interest pieces actually (like Leif). If you want to know more about something (because I know I did skimp a bit here)- ask in a review and I'll answer with a brief synopsis. :)**

**Thirdly, I'm not very good at writing 'insane' characters so don't judge me too harshly, but feedback on how I could improve would be greatly appreciated!**

**And fourthly, - NO - this is not the last chapter for Lis. He still has three more to go and the Southsward's Fighters are now on the move north, on their _journey home_. ;)**

**Sooooo... Because I had a brain lapse and missed posting this originally, you guys are all anticipating this update like crazy and I am going to expect crazy amounts of reviews right? Right...? And don't forget about the poll! **


	22. Duty,Honour,Bravery:P4-ToDoThe RightThin...

**Sorry, guys for the tardy update on this one. This chapter gave me a lot of grief, and though it's not something I'm completely happy with, I'm content enough to post it and move on. Sick of looking at it really.**

**Thanks to Thomas the Traveler, Saraa Luna and Jade Tealeaf for reviewing the last chapter. SPECIAL THANKS to Jade for helping me with this one and looking at the preliminary draft for it. It was pretty rough and thanks to her advice, it's in the acceptable range.**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 4- To Do The Right Thing**

_"It's not given to people to judge what's right or wrong. People have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong."_  
- Leo Tolstoy, _War and Peace -_

* * *

"Ratherwood, I'm going to fiking kill you."

"I told you not to drink water from that stream before it was boiled," was his oh-so-comical response. "All you had to do was wait a few minutes!"

"And then wait for it to cool down again!" I groaned and growled at the pain in my gut and burning feeling at my exits. "Great Seasons, it was just _water!"_

"Me ol' Auntie Nish used to say chewing on a ginger root or mint leaf would help," Rowik bubbled out. "Her husband had horrible guts… always runnin' to the trees…"

"Rowik- do you have either of those roots or leaves?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Then shut your trap and stop giving me false-" I stopped when that familiar sensation fluttered about my groin. Time to make a run for it- again. Leaping to my footpaws, I scooted across our camp to the rock piles while seventy-six beasts laughed and made jests at the expense of my innards. Suppose it was a good thing we were all males after all (despite my protests early on that there were no maids to keep us company) - there's no shame in doing what you need to do amongst males.

"Ah, you can all boil your small heads!" I shouted from my sanctuary. "You're all going to be cursing your tongues when I'm through with you!"

"Sure we will!" Grayson replied. "That fight will last all of what… are ya up to two minute intervals, now?"

"Ha, ha, ha," I mocked back. "More than enough time to finish your tail off!

"Gowren?" I yelled, "Can you just cut this part off me?"

"I can try ta cut ye at the waist, but it won't be pretty," he chortled. "Be taking some o' yar favourite bits away, though."

"I'll deal with the pain then."

"Lis, hurry up!" Rath called. "Jalen almost has this herb drink ready for you and it should help you out a bit."

"Speed is not something I can control right now, Rath," I informed him. "And I'm going to need more than a little bit of help."

They all laughed. At least somebeast was and after _four seasons_ of wandering, revelry of any kind was welcome- even if it was aimed at me. Ah, but I suppose I'm leaving out a few bits aren't I? Well, good. Boring bits the whole lot of it; snippets of drifting beasts trying to find a spot for themselves and never taking root anywhere. The just of it is this: Walk. Walk. Walk. Oh, and did I mention… walk? Walk some more, walk this way, walk that way. Walk backwards out of caves with hissing, tongue flicking serpents fanging at you when all you were trying to do was get out of the rain. Walk forward through wheat fields swishing a scythe back and forth in a hard day's work just to get a warm meal. Walk sideways in the shadows of villages after you steal some food from a merchant's storehouse so that you can feed all the starving beasts depending on you for survival. Oh ya, and here's the best part- Keep. Walking. North! Ya- that's where all the smart beasts go- north to the free Midlands! Where you can settle and live without the yoke of society and hierarchical creatures. North to where coin was _useless_ and your _word of honour_ was worth more than your weight in gold lusters! To the north where trees bloomed pastries, ale ran from rivers and maids skipped about naked while pink and purple Badger Lords fluttered about on wings above you keeping the peace. HA! The north. That dream was more coated in tripe than Varun's rump-stopper… or these rocks by the time I was done with them.

At least I had a view. Straight ahead I could see the Eastern Sea glittering through a break in the trees. It was a much better sight than the one we had been faced with a month ago; a land-consuming ash bucket called Asynth's Ditch (I dare you to say that five times fast). We even contemplated trying to cross the wasteland on foot, but thought better of it, and being the brilliant commanders we were, Ratherwood and I herded our fighters east along the sands' edge until we hit here- the eastern coast.

"Lis?" Ratherwood's voice sounded from the other side of my rocky back rest. "I'm afraid to ask- are you going to be alright?"

"No." I rolled the taste of bile in my mouth and spat it out a tail length away from me. "Why?"

"Something doesn't feel right," he whispered to me. "I think we need to get moving. Forest is quiet."

"Ratherwood, we're wedged between a sea of sand on one side and water on the other," I said plainly. "How the 'gates these trees are even growing are beyond me- I don't think any beast is going to be stalking in the shadows.

"Besides," I laughed a groan and clutched my stomach against a cramp. "Even a searat would rather drink bilge from his galley's own hull than that water I drank!"

"Not many beasts be as greedy as y'are," a thick voice snickered at me from the shades of the pines. "Tha' spring be a good one, if ya would jus' wait till her waters be cleaned."

Ratherwood drew a dagger and I heard the hiss of metal and clenching teeth behind me, twigs snapping as all his Fate-be-damned crew seethed out from their hiding spots around our group. One sight of that ridiculous plumed hat and I wrinkled my nose and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well, if it ain't _Lord_ Liswano!" his voice boomed and his right paw slapped his cutlass hilt in some kind of comic relief. "I's thought I's c'uld smell ya!"

"Whatever I smell like is a far cry better than your soggy rudder," I snarled. Seasons, I wish I could get up and put my blades through his ottery hide.

"Oh-ya!" he laughed. "All roses an' spice! Ogin- sketch a picture o' this, will ya? T' lord is holdin' court on 'is throne!"

My arse let him know what I thought of that statement.

"What are you doing here, pirate?" I ignored the snickers of his motley crew and narrowed my eyes into slits.

He gave me that sly, lip curling grin he was known for. "Stoppin' fer fresh wa'er, but I's must be sayin', seein' ya be a pleasant surprise!"

"Who are you, sea otter?" Ratherwood growled beside me. Brave mouse he was. No, no. Not by squaring off with the sea dog; by moving around the rock to the same side as me when I was in this... condition.

"Aw, now I's be hurt," he whined and placed a paw over his heart, staggering back like some beast hit him with an imaginary arrow. _Fike- why has no beast hit him with an arrow!_ "M'lord's not tellin' beasts 'bout 'is old friends?"

Rath laughed. "You? Friends with the Mariner Family of Carminack? Not likely."

Those slimy lips curled up at me again and I felt mine follow suit. "Ratherwood, meet the biggest arse-hole of the seas- _Captain Wayte Tydefell."_

* * *

I'll say one thing for the salty sea-dog: He knows when to pity a beast. Not like I wanted it, but I took it all the same. Food, _clean_ drink and an unsoiled shirt he offered me so I could at least wash mine. Paw-outs. And I hated them, especially paw-outs from a swindling, lying, thieving pirate with the gall to call himself a _Captain_. There were more warrants out for his bringing-in than there were golden leaves on Constillion's Palace Tree.

Oh sure, he and his crew looked nice enough as they slumped their smelly hides down beside us at our own fires and shared their brew, but underneath all that lets-be-friends smiles, they were who they were: Pirates. Skinflints, rum-runners, traffickers, plunderers, freeloaders. Taking whatever they needed, whenever they needed it with one thought to others. Lawbreakers, disturbers of the peace, whoremongers- no wait… that was me.

Regardless, this otter belonged in the stalks; his head and paws slapped between two boards while his rudder was split and ears snipped in disgrace. His ship, his precious _Kailani_, as it was so called, should have had her sails trimmed and keel holed before being pushed out of the bay to sink into the sea.

But I couldn't do that- I, had to sit on my lordy rump and listen to him jabber on between my grunts, impatiently waiting for nature to take its course; course that thankfully for the entire eastern seaboard, the herbs Jalen concocted put to a quick end.

"Bett'r?" he simpered as came I up to _my_ fire on the rocks he had the nuts to sit at. "Worried 'bout fer a moment t'ere- a brief moment, but a moment all t' same!"

"Shut up," I spat and sat with him and his two first mates, Rogin and Bover (or something like that), Ratherwood and Grayson beside me, taking in our conversation. "What are you still doing here anyways? Don't you have an innocent ship to rob or a port to plunder?"

"May'ap tomorra," he mused and wiggled a dagger between his teeth to loosen some food stuck between them. "Havin' too much fun tormentin' ya right now t' think 'bout it t'ough!"

"Why I oughta-"

"-Oug'ta w'at?" he huffed and sucked saliva between his teeth with a flick of his tongue. "T'ank me fer 'elpin' ya wipe yar arse? Probably t' most action ya seen in days!"

_One season, two months and sixteen days, but who's counting._

"I ought to bring you in!" I snapped instead. "Bring you to the brigs like the criminal you are!"

"Bring me in? Ah, e'en ya don wanna travel an'ee fart'er south t'an ya already are right now."

I looked about the camp quickly to see most beasts engaged in surprisingly pleasant conversation. Fighters and crew alike sat around fires, jesting and eating some plain bread and clams the otters had dug up, not caring one wit about anything except having a good laugh and resting their weary paws. Florgin even was making a spectacle of himself, singing away and balancing a cup of gin on his nose- at least his brother had more sense, or rather (ha) Ratherwood had more influence on him. Flintin sat all nice-like with a cup of _boiled_ water watching the performance. Ha, I may not have been proud to say I encourage the little monster in his past-times, but I will always say Florgin was one of the most life-lovers I had ever met. Drink or no drink, he was bound and determined he'd find his happiness one day.

Turning my attention back to my family's _old friends_, I couldn't help the sore look that clouded my features. I could feel Rath's eyes burning holes in the side of my face in desperation for explanations and Grayson was just damn fidgety, but they were both the quickest with a dagger and their minds combined (a somewhat rare combination amongst our company). It killed me that I was sitting and drinking with a pirate, no, pirates, so why didn't we slit their greasy throats? They hadn't tried to kill us yet. Plus, with an inquisitive glance from Ratherwood, I guessed they had something more to tell us.

"Why?" I asked. "What's happening down there?"

"The whole ruddy country be fallin' t' bits," Wayte said softly. "Some parts worse t'an others, but it be hard goin' all t' same!"

He told us stories of what he had heard from ports and whispers from other beasts during his trafficking and stealing escapades. Lost beasts roamed about looking for places to settle. Families starving living off air and water, stolen food or tree bark. Fathers begged for work, mothers sold their bodies for coin in alleyways while their children waited in the streets. Daughters married off as young as twelve seasons to alleviate the strain on the dinner table and lads formed gangs, hiding in forests waiting for innocent travellers to steal their wares whilst babes were abandoned at wealthy merchants' doors.

General Arrlo was mugged on the road to Hersford and killed for his coins. Constillion's great Southern Palace was ransacked- beast trading invaluable trinkets and tapestries about the markets for bowls of soup or crusts of bread. Thanks to my father's preparations, Carminack seemed to be faring better. According to Wayte, Lars opened up the sailor's commission, employed beasts and ordered more ships be built to accommodate the rise of naval demand. Laec actually used the lump a tail length above his arse and sold the ex-legionnaires their cottages for a decent rate so they owned something concrete. Loulen- well, I'm not sure he even stayed awake during council meetings. Leland and Latimer were shipped off to the Southern Islands and Pop- my pop did what he did best. Managed every aspect of that great city and together with General Marc organized training camps for beasts to learn a trade, offering coin bonus paid out of their own pockets for any tradebeast willing to teach a score of fighters how to make something of themselves in this new world of Southsward. Orleon relocated to Constillion to help Varun restore order, General Kentin disappeared and there were rumours of a group of squirrels with dribbles of noble blood running in their veins had started construction of a castle a month's march north of Constillion where they had the ambitions of establishing a _monarchy_. A monarchy! We all got a good chuckle out of that.

"It be a while afore t'is hornets' nest settles down," Wayte concluded. "Ba it will, givin' time."

"What are they doing to resume order?" Ratherwood asked and I could see his flicker of devotion glint in his eye. "Surely, they are reining in the lawbreakers?"

"Yep." The private popped his lips. I tipped my head forward as if to say _and…_

"T' group called, erm…" he paused to think. "Ah yes. T' Southern Shield. Terrible name, t'at. Ba I suppose it c'uld be worse- considerin' it be Marc t'at named it!"

"How d'ya know all this?" Grayson piped up.

"I's be kept informed."

"How?" I said plainly. "Your spy is dead."

"Talk 'bout me sister like t'at again, mate, an' I's kill ya fasta t'en ya c'n blink." Danger dripped from his tone and I lapped it up like Drunagen's ale.

"We know you got your information somehow," I derided. "It was all too convenient how you always knew the trade routes and extent of arms to a ship."

"Oh, I's 'ad a spy in yar camp, t'at be sure." Damn otter took the bait without so much as a bob on the line, leaving me a baffled fishermouse staring at an empty hook. "Ba it not be who ya t'ink it be."

"Lady Stalwallows was smuggling you supplies and information-"

_"Lady Stalwallows?"_ was Ratherwood and Grayson's unified exclamation of disbelief.

"General Marc's wife is… was, this cocker's sister," I informed them quickly.

"Aye, Aerwy gave me vittles an' wares fer me journeys, ba how would she know any'ee t'ing 'bout t' ships!" He sniggered with his two crewbeasts for a moment and I narrowed my eyes at them. I had no idea who the Bover, Tover one was, but the Cogin one was unmistakably a Swale. I could tell by the light fur and his crossbred features of both river and sea ott. Another once great otter name dragged through the sludge by their occupation and pirate habits. At least other families like the Stalwallows, Tydefells, Windwakes and Keelminks had the sense to keep their swords pointed in the right waters.

Wayte gave me a smirk. "Naw, t' get information like t'at, ya need a pair o' nuts ta squeeze."

My nostrils flared. One of brother's first mates. It had to be. They would be the only ones to Lars' chart room and missives…

"Though I's must say, I's din 'ave ta twist t'at hard. Lars be given up lots when 'is fadder be lookin' t'other way."

I gaped. "You're lying."

"Am not."

"Lars would never so much as speak to you as give you information!" I rallied. I would have jumped to my footpaws, but Ratherwood anchored me down so to not attract attention. "He'd put a sword through your gut."

"Cold beast t' do t'at ta the one who brought 'is son home fer 'im."

"Wh-what?" I stammered. "How do you know… know about that?"

"Some beast 'ad ta git Evelin an' little Leify 'ome, now din t'ey? C'uldna be yar ruddy brother t' way 'ee was watched. No beast was gonna care 'bout us though!"

"Lars asked you to bring home his…" I couldn't say it- it was too painful and even just talking about it all caused all those memories to punch and kick at the locked box I kept all my feelings.

" 'is mistress?" Wayte said plain as day. "Oh, not exactly. Evelin did. Lars 'ad't been t' Constillion fer neigh a season or two an' ta maiden t'ought 'ee'd like t'see his son."

"Ah, he was a chipper mite," the Swale smiled. "Always pullin' at Wayte's hat he was!"

_See otter, even a babe had the sense to tell you the hat was-is awful._

"Met 'em out on t' reef," Wayte said continuing his story. "Proud moment t'at was t' watch. Ne'er seen a 'appier mouse or a more burblin' babe. Leify took t' yar brother straight off. Played no strange a'tall."

"Typical pirate," I growled. "Dangled a son over my brother's head then refused to give them up until he traded you secrets?"

"Yar brother-" he said in a loud voice. " 'ad ta decency t' recognize a good deed an' a kind paw. Somet'ing ya not be alike in, 't w'uld seem. I's asked fer not'ing, ba 'ee paid me fer yar precious nephew an' t'at love o' 'is, t'en proclaimed 'ee be in me debt fer life afta I's 'elped ta smuggle 'im inta yar blasted manor."

"How did you do that?" It was Ratherwood that answered that question. I was too busy counting seasons back in my mind.

"You lit the storehouses on fire," I stated. "Ten- no, twelve- seasons ago now, the storehouses caught fire and it took nearly every beast in Carminack to put out the flames…"

"… Every beast including the Mariner's Guards," Ratherwood finished for me. "Even your mother, sisters and your brothers' wives took a ship into the middle of the bay in case the flames spread…"

That's how Lars got her into that north tower. That's how none of us knew about them until…

"You cost beasts their homes!" I shouted this time. "Some creatures died putting out those fires! Prices for food went through the roof! Families starved."

"An' all fer t' sake o' yar brother's 'appiness," he grinned. "An' ya call me o' selfish pirate."

I snorted my response and concentrated on the punching going on in my gut. Whatever happened I wasn't letting those leviathans out. Emotions were dangerous.

"One good deed does not erase the bad," I blurted out in the silence. "So you brought my brother a bundle of joy and lifetime of sorrow now that Leif's-"

"Ya c'n thank yar brother's wife fer Leif's lameness. Jealous o' not- no female wit a 'eart w'uld throw a babe down t' stairs. Bastard or no."

"- you still ruined hundreds of lives over your so-called good deeds," I argued like it were only the two of us present and the others were just painted statues with glued on fur. "You helped vermin sack Ardeen Port…"

"I's set fire ta the wharfs so t' vermin c'uldna land an' git ta the town."

"… you sunk all the ships on Hyra Isle…"

"Bloody creatures be full o' plague- ya wan'ed 'em sailin' round spreadin' disease?"

"You've overtaken how many tradeships? Stolen how many thousands of coins worth of merchandise?"

"Needed supplies ta keep up wit me rovin' makin' sure t'em dastardly vermin stay outta yar Southsward."

"Uh, Lis," Ratherwood muttered in my ear. "He doesn't seem half bad… you sure he's a named pirate?"

"Laws are laws."

"In a sense yes, but what he's done has been for the greater good."

I ignored him. "You, pirate, held my father at knife point. You pulled a blade on the Mariner Lord of Carminack. A mouse of noble blood from a line traced back to the Dawning Days. You held a blade under his chin, said my mother was nothing but a tight fit and then you _killed_ my infant brother."

"Naw, mate ya be listenin' t' yar wetnurse," he tried to explain himself. "Yes, I's put a blade ta t' mouseling's throat, ba only afta 'ee be already as good as dead."

"Laurie was just a season old," nefarious tones slithering off my tongue. "He didn't even know enough to cry before you killed him."

"An' 'ow w'uld ya know? Ya weren't e'en t'ere, much less knew 'im."

"I've heard the story enough times. You overtook my parents' vessel when they were just going to show off their first born to my mother's family on the Southern Islands."

"T'ey be headed straight inta o' ratraid!" Wayte said. "I's be tryin' ta stop 'em- ba t'ey not listened an' sailed round me and me crew."

"You boarded the boat with the rats," I grimaced and Rath put his paw on my arm to keep me from leaping through the fire at the otter. "You fought my father's guards-"

"Cuz t'ey be fightin' me! Serious-like mate, ya not gonna parry a sabre slash cuz ta attacker be a woodlander? Give t'at lordy head o' yars a shake."

"You killed my brother!"

"Ta mite be all ba dead by t' time I's got ta him. Rats killed his nurse afta t'ey 'ad 'er. 'Ee be trampled inta scuffle. Body floppy as jelly, innards mush, blood comin' outta his ears an' mouth. I's killed 'im ta save 'is sufferin'. An' t'en I's put 'im in yar modder's arms an' got 'er an' yar fadder outta t'ere wit all speed."

"You took all the gold and silver on the ship and kept it for yours. You left my father and mother on a beach and let them walk back to Carminack- with the body of their dead son."

"I's took ta gold, cuz yar fadder weren't gonna give me not'ing fer savin' 'em, an' yes, I's left t'em on ta beach- I's not stupid 'nough ta sail inta port w'ere yar fadder c'uld snap 'is claws once an' bring us inta t' brigs."

"You don't deserve to live."

"Mayhap I don," he shrugged. "Ba t'at be up ta t'Fates ta decide w'en t'ey draw me sails up."

"Could be sooner than later with my brother's new commissions swarming the seas." I stated.

"Aye," he laughed. "Ba Skipper Marc be quick t' let me know ta 'appenings."

_"Skipper Marc?" _ I questioned.

"Marc Stalwallows be t' new Skipper o' t'is Southern Shield," Wayte chuckled at our stunned faces.

"I should just cut your throat and be done with it," I snarled at him, duty to my old family boiling up in me. His first mates shifted a bit and one even put a webbed paw at his wrist where he would have had a dagger hid up his sleeve.

"T'en who's goin' ta ferry yar ruddy hides up ta coast once ya git through ta trees an' run into t' sand again?" Wayte smirked. "Cuz ya will- in a day o' so."

"We should go back south again," Grayson whispered to me. "Join this Southern Shield with Gener- er, Skipper Marc. Help put Southsward to right."

I stared into the fire. It was a bloody simple decision. Tuck tail and go home, fight beasts and regain old titles, old lives, old habits, old practices. All of us could slip back into ourselves again and I could keep swallowing more and more emotions of hate and death and sadness. I could feel pain and bitter affections; buy love and waste away my life far quicker than Loulen ever would with his drinking. All for what; the easy way out? I never was one to take that path.

"I'm done fighting for Southsward," I breathed and looked Rath in the eye. He nodded to me. We both felt the same. "I'm done being a title."

"But it's your family, Lis."

"This is my family-" I said and motioned to the seventy-six mice around us. "I may never be a father, but I've sure raised a lot of sons. I may never sit at the center of a dais, but I can still observe the world around me. I may never be at the head of a great army, but I can still champion a cause. We have a herd of beasts wanting a new life for themselves, Rath- and it's up to us to see them to it.

"I don't like you, otter." I turned my attention back to him. "But for some reason you don't mind me. Why do you want to help us?"

"Liswano- w'en's ya get ta be as old as I's be now, ya start ta think 'bout yar life." I guess my little speech challenged him to say something philosophical, as he scratched his graying chin. "Call me w'at's ya will, ba I am w'at's I am. 'Ta Tide Is High' be me family's words. We Tydefells always gives a paw ta t'ose in need, always pay our debts. Ya believe I's be a murderer o' yar brother. I's be repayin' ta debt by 'elpin' ya an' yar family outta t'is mess. T'at is if ya 'ave ta courage t' take me paw."

"All of us?"

"Anyee t'at wishes ta go north, _Kailani_ be proud t' carry."

"If we take you up on this offer- how do we know you aren't going to play us false," Ratherwood pressed Wayte. "You'll just take us north and drop us past the wasteland- no questions asked?"

"I's will," Wayte jerked his head in agreement. "On me word as a privateer."

"Occupations change," I stated.

"On me word as a Tydefell."

"Family can change."

He curled those corners up into a smile that ate my soul alive. "On me word as a pirate."

That, oddly enough, I could trust.

"Do we's 'ave an accord?"

I thrust my paw in front of me. "As long as you don't mind me puking all over your deck."

* * *

We set sail with the tide and waved goodbye to some of our friends who chose to travel back south to join the Shield. After I struck the deal with Wayte, Ratherwood, Grayson and I put it to the other fighters- they had the choice: Go home or travel north. Grayson and a score of others decided to stay in Southsward and try to heal our old country, while the rest of us- well, we knew Southsward would be in good paws. We needed to continue our travel, for each other, for ourselves. I couldn't really explain it, except a nagging feeling I felt that there was something more to life than we had experienced.

One bob of the ship and I was retching, but Rogin, Togin, Pogin, whatever he was, said it wasn't the first mouse to spew all over _Kailani's_ deck and I was holding good company by doing so. By nightfall, I was a sorry mouse indeed and practically green with sickness and lack of fluid left in me, but also without that locked box wedged in my gut. That's how much my body _hated_ the sea; it despised the waters so deeply that when all my phlegm and bile was puked without so much as a sneer of distaste from the waves, my body dug deep inside and hurled (literally) all my wretched emotions out as a last resort of distain. I'm sure it tasted as horrible to the water going down as it did for me coming up, but despite its sour exit, it left me strangely at ease. Though still thoroughly nauseous, I sat with the remainder of my family and listened to an old otter smoke his pipe and mend his nets to the tale of a legend.

"Have ye heard o' ta mouse Martin?" he asked and chuckled when we all groaned and waved him off.

"Bah!" Florgin scoffed. "We know all about that one!"

Flintin picked up the where he left off. "Every beast has heard the story of the Commander."

"Commander, ye say- naw, I don't think he be called that." The old sea-dog stroked his beard. "This be Martin the Warrior I be talkin' about."

"Martin the Warrior, Commander of the Southern Armies," I belched out. "We've all been rocked t' sleep by that mousetale and his Battle at Clapsbay."

"Naw, this be a different mouse. Martin the Warrior of Redwall Abbey, Champion of Mossflower and Slayer of Tsarmina, Wildcat Queen of Kotir and the Thousand Eye Army."

We all listened to the story with only the waves and my dry heaving to hinder his tale of a northern mouse traipsing through the woods of Mossflower and happening upon an oppressed world. Every beast including myself was agape at the feats and exploits of his bravery, and as sick as I was, I looked up at the quarter deck and saw Wayte, Oggin and Rover smiling as if they were remembering some beast.

* * *

**So we get a neat little tie in with the return of Wayte Tydefell. Also, we get some more back story with Lis' family; Leif's origins (not really a surprise) and the tenth child of the Mariner's family finally comes to light- I don't think many noticed how many times Lis/others have said he was from a family of ten, but I've only ever named nine alive. And also with this, we see Wayte's questionable 'good guy/bad guy' actions. Sort of. He is more of a good guy that gets blamed for crap that was unavoidable really- all in the name of the greater good, right? **

**Anyways, what did you think? It was the heaviest chapter we've seen from Lis, but I tried to balance it with his snarky and crude attitude. **

**Remember to review!**


	23. Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 5-Mossflower

**Sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out. I have no fancy excuses, just lots and lots of writer's block. :P**

**Special thanks to Saraa Luna and Thomas the Traveler for reviewing the last chapter- it is very appreciated. :) As to the rest of you reading the story (because I know there's a good chunk of you out there), what are you thinking about the tale(s)? I'd love to know your thoughts, so write some comments down in the box below and hit 'Post Review.' ;)**

**Oh, and just an FYI. I've changed this collection slightly, dropping it from a drabble of 5 POVs to just 4, so after the next chapter (Lis' sixth part) and a super-secret, surprise POV, one-shot bonus chapter, that's it for _The Journey Home._**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery- Part 5: Mossflower**

_"__Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."_  
- L. Frank Baum -

* * *

_Whomp._

Fluffy white dust exploded off the back of my head and fanned out around my cloak hood like a headdress. I took a deep breath, grit my teeth and growled out of the side of my mouth. "Florgin!"

Giggles. Chortles. Snickers. Laughter. "Yes, Lis?"

"One more snowball aimed at my head and I'll make sure one gets shoved up your arse."

Again giggles. Chortles. Snickers. Laughter. I snorted and shook my head. Oh, how the mighty fall! I was once a noble lord and a captain in one of the greatest armies the lands had ever seen and now I was nothing more than a poor looking mouse in ragged clothes with an imaginary target slap to the back of my head. I used to command respect. Now, I commanded the stage of a one-mouse comedy act; and yet, I didn't mind one bit.

"Alright, all of you settle down," Ratherwood commanded from the head of our column. "We're in strange country. Let's try and keep noise to a minimum."

I grunted under my breath and looked about our surroundings. Strange country indeed. Just trees upon trees, upon trees; all covered with layers of white puff. Snow, I think Wayte had called it when he shoved our sorry bottoms off his ship at Ruverdale Port. Well, whatever it was, I sure as fike got on my paws and knees and kissed the bloody stuff. Hell, I even rolled in it and threw pawfuls of the fluff into the air above me like an otter pup in his first splash of water. It was freezing, but I didn't care- I was off that damned wooden tub and on solid ground again, so snow or no snow, I was just happy to be a landed mouse once more.

"Aye, Ratherwood's right," I agreed and twisted round to walk backwards I can talk to them without raising my voice too high. "Seasons know what's in this Fluffflower Woods, anyways."

"It's _Mossflower Woods_," Carik corrected me. "_Thee_ Mossflower Woods. Home of _thee Martin the Warrior_."

The eyes of every mouse with less than twenty-five seasons under his belt lit up like beacons. I rolled my eyes at them and spun round, twirling my fore finger in mock excitement and making a silent 'wahoo' expression with my lips while Ratherwood simply chuckled beside me. _Oh, what a load of rat tripe- here we go again…_

"They say he's invincible," Flintin muttered excitedly to the others around him. "That he jumped out of the tallest tower of a castle and didn't so much as sprain a foot claw when he landed!"

"Well, I heard he has a magic sword," Rowik piped up. "That it can kill _anything!"_

"Tall as an otter he is!" Carik chimed in. "And stronger than a badger!"

"They say he pulled a scuttled ship right out of the big river with one paw," Flintin continued. "_And _they say he carried each stone to build Redwall on his own back."

"Now, that's a lie!" Florgin scoffed and my ears pricked at thought the mouse may have finally sprouted a realistic mind. "He didn't carry _each _one-"

I turned my head slightly. "-_Martin thee Warrior_ carried _two slabs_ at a time!"

"Great Seasons!" I barked at them. "Lads, will you listen to yourselves- hero worshipping and gossiping like smitten maids in spring time!"

"Oh, c'mon Lis!" Carik said tapping my shoulder with his walking pole. "You heard all these stories, too; this mouse is incredible!"

"Aye, every ol' hag, cripple or sage beast had something to say about him that's for sure," I chortled. "Not much else to talk about in this country save snow and trees."

"Oh, I think that village a day back will be talking about you for a while yet, Lis," Ratherwood sniggered.

I halted immediately and stared him square in the eye. "Shut. Up."

"What?" my friend smirked and tipped his head to get me walking again. "You have to admit it, it was hilarious."

"For you-"

"-And every beast that wasn't bolting down the path doing up his belt while dodging pots and pans!" Rath laughed. "Never thought I'd see the day when a maid bested you!"

"The lass didn't best me," I grumbled and rubbed my bruised cheek. "I just didn't expect her to… to…"

"To say no?"

_Not when I'm used to them screaming yes,_ I thought and grimaced at the tender skin under my fur. "It might have thrown me off a titch- but the slap just damned rude. Frosty Midlander." So much for my picture of ale streams, pastry trees and skipping nude maids… Try streams frozen solid, barren trees and maids… ah, the females covered their whole bodies from footclaw all the way up to their chins with so much fabric, not even my imagination could picture what was underneath it all. Fates help the northern males if this is how the Midlanders dress!

"You're lucky that's all she did," he scoffed, bringing me back to reality. Lowering his voice so the others couldn't here, Ratherwood asked, "What did you say to her anyway?"

I snorted at the memory. "I simply suggested another way to get warm in this cursed weather." He just gaped at me. "And I might have mentioned something about rubbing a different stick to spark her fire."

"Lis, she was a widow! She offered you a loaf of bread for us!"

"She said it was 'warm from the oven,'" I countered defensively.

"As in she was just finishing baking it!"

"That's not what that phrase means in the south, Rath, and you know it." I guffawed and decided to jeer him a bit. "But then I'm not the expert on married maids and widows- how many times have you been told there's a warm oven waiting for you?"

Ratherwood gulped and coughed on his own spit. Aha! Point one for me…

"Things don't work the same up here that they did down in Southsward."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled and became conscious of the throb between my legs… again. "Might as well let them freeze and fall off."

"For the love of the Seasons, Lis!"

"For the love of the Seasons is right, and it's been nearly _two_. Pawlina and Pawmela can only do so much for so long."

"So, let's find you a _proper wife_ to warm up against in this new land- make a fresh start of it."

"I never said anything about a wife."

"Why not?"

I hesitated for a moment to think about my response, but in the end I told him the truth. "Because it worked out so well for you? For Lars? For even my own father? No, Ratherwood, marriage is not something I'm interested in in the slightest. Now, the next fallen log with the right sized hole might catch my attention…" I tried to turn it around into a joke, but it was all for not after my first sentence; Ratherwood went quiet and the smile fell from his face. I knew I overstepped a line, but he'd been after me since the army disbanded to find a wife and I was getting sick of listening to it.

He started rubbing his fingertips together as if missing the feel of something in his paws and I sighed. "Ratherwood, I…"

"I'm just going to scout ahead for a bit," he said and cleared his throat. "Make sure the path is clear up ahead and maybe I can see this Redwall place the woodlanders keep pointing us to."

I nodded and watched him trot off in front of the troupe.

"Where's Ratherwood going?" Florgin asked me.

"Just up the path a bit," I covered up. "He'll be back."

The lad stepped up to walk beside me. "Are we really going to Redwall Abbey?"

"That's the direction we're walking in," I said bluntly. "Now, whether or not we find the place is a different story."

Aye, we were headed towards Redwall Abbey. Being the brilliant beasts we were, we landed ourselves in the Midlands during winter and needless to say there wasn't a hamlet or port village that could accommodate sixty creatures out of the blue. So, they kept pointing us west. _'Go to Redwall,'_ they would all say, _'They'll help you out there!'_ Then we'd have to listen to them prattle on about the sandstone building; its size, its grandeur, all the beasts who lived there- oh and its fabled mousewarrior. The great and mysterious Martin the Warrior. Bah! So, they _say _he slew a cat. It was probably just a fat pine marten with its winter fur and a puffy tail.

But regardless, this mouse became the center of our conversations. It was something to keep morale up; young ones revered his adventures and the older fighters relished in his tales of courage. For the rest of us, laughing at their exaggerated stories kept us warm by the fire.

Florgin was quiet as we trudged over the snow and I watched him give a sly glance backwards to make sure his brother wasn't paying attention before taking a small flask from his vest. Once the canteen was uncorked, the sweet, spicy smell of rum wafted into the air between us. I guess he swiped some from the pirates before we parted ways.

"A little early for that isn't it, laddie?" I said as Florgin put the vessel to his lips, gulping down the liquid and clicking his tongue at the burning sensation that was surely searing his throat.

"It was just a mouthful," he mumbled and put the drink back in his pocket. "Warms me up."

"So does rubbing your paws together."

He shook his head. "It's not the same."

"No, but-" I stopped when Skipton and Jalen gave a shout from the back of the column. In a symphony of metal and wood, every beast twisted around to face the trees, pressing their backs to one another with grim faces and drawn blades. I unsheathed my twin blades and marched down the line.

"Easy, lads," I commanded them. "Keep a sharp eye and hold your position." Coming to the end I eyed the two who raised the call. "Alright, Kipper- what's got your tunic bunched up your arse?"

"I saw something move to the north," he said with a slight tremor to his voice. "Over there by the pines. It looked like… I don't know, really."

"I saw it too," Jalen nodded. "It had that slimy weasely-look. All gangly and such, but it was small."

"There's bound to be some vermin sniffing about somewhere, lads," I said loudly. "Right, let's keep moving- slow and steady. Keep your eyes on the trees and a tight grip on your weapons."

I walked up the ranks, counting heads as I went, my old instincts alert and I felt the rush of leadership and courage swell up inside me again. Quickly my mice snapped to order and followed me forward as I led them through the forest. Back and forth my eyes surveyed the trees, watching and waiting for movement, but my mind was focused on the beast missing from my count.

"Come on, lads," I urged them. "Pick up the pace- Florgin, you and Lochlan trot up ahead and see if you can spot Ratherwood. Get his tail back here quick-like!"

"Right," the two trackers replied in unison and broke away from the group. At least the snow would make it easy for them to track him; and us to follow them. The two mice disappeared over a knoll and a hooting cackle echoed from… the ground? No, that couldn't be right- vermin didn't come out of the ground.

"Fiking vermin," I spat and continued to look about the trees, searching for their worthless hides. "Keep moving, lads," I encouraged them. "Hold your courage, we'll be out of the trees soon and make a stand in a clearing."

Another round of hoots and whoops sounded around us and my hackles rose to the point of spikes down the back of my neck while my knuckles turned white from the tight grip on my swords. All of my senses were alert, ready and… confused. I wanted run, but my legs would only carry me in an odd gate over the snow; the sort of movement one made when their knees were tied together. Twigs snapped around us, but not a single branch moved. The voice came from below us, when they should have been to the side or above and even the ground seemed to shift under our paws. Yet the oddest thing was the foggy feeling in my brain and the warm musty scent in the air when it should have been cold and crisp.

"Lis-" Rowik said in a drawled out tone. "Lis- why is there steam coming from the ground?"

"Where?" I garbled out and blinked furiously to focus my vision. The mouse pointed his spear forward, so close the shaft tipped under my mouse.

"Over there," he muttered, his eyes wide as if he too was suffering from the same affects I was. "Over by… there."

"Wait 'ere," I directed them and staggered forward on my own. "I'll go see what i' tis."

I inched forward towards the swirling clouds lifting like fingers grasping for the sky. I was thinking it was a hot spring and its pockets had opened up the snow, but the closer I got to it, the more wobbly legged I got and I felt like I was on the ship again. Trees warped and waved before me, twisting like the steam rising from the snow. The musty smell was overwhelming and my mouth felt like I had been licking a chalk block. I wanted to retch, but I couldn't tighten my muscles to gag. Behind me, my fighters were coughing and calling for me; I shuffled backwards- one step, two steps… and that's when I saw it.

The snow moved in front of me, shifted and pushed aside like a lid and _it_ popped its head out. Whatever it was.

"To arms!" I managed to yell and clumsily readied my stance. The thing still had its head out of the hole and its beady eyes and yellow teeth sneered at me through its odd looking headdress. More clouds of smoke rose around it and it licked its lips.

"Plenny mousebeasts," it leered. "Gonna killyer. Gonna eaddyer."

"You can try," I growled. "You won't win."

"Gonna killyer," it said again, slipping down into the ground. "Gonna eaddyer."

I shook my head. I had to be hallucinating. My mind wasn't making sense. Everything was wavy and grew tall and large around me. Figures rose out of the ground one by one all wearing the same brush and grass-like headdress the first one had on its head. They were circling us, each of them with slim thrusting spears in paw.

"Lis!" Flintin shouted and coughed. "Lis- get back here!"

I wanted to, but my legs wouldn't move and my eyes fluttered to the back of my head in intervals. I could barely think as one came forward and pulled a long dagger from his ensemble of weeds.

"Gonna killyer."

"No," I rasped out. I wasn't going to die to a scum like that. "No, you're not."

I forced my body into a lunge and by some form of wonder landed my left sword in his thigh while he blocked my right with his knife. My movements were excruciatingly slow as I tried to counter his attack and I scarcely had the ability to cross my blades in front of me in defense let alone raise them up to block the dagger slashing towards my head. I couldn't lift my arms. The only thing I could do was try and twist away, but even that motion was jilted and I felt the cold steel connect with the flesh of my forehead.

I reared back, yelling at the bite of the dagger as it was dragged through my skin and blood poured down my face, blinding me. Blood filled my nose and mouth, clogging the air I tried to breathe. Pain scorched across my forehead, over my eyes, crossways down my snout and ending at the edge of my left jawline with a hole clean through to my teeth thanks to the sharp point of a blade and a finishing flick of the vermin's wrist. Instantly, I dropped my swords and clutched my paws to my face in attempt to hold my features from curling off my skull like the pierced skin of a roasted apple. I was in too much shock to cry out in anguish and my heart thundered in my chest as the cold claws of panic began squeezing it, paralyzing my body. I couldn't run. I couldn't fight. All I could do was stand in the turned snow and mud, breathing in the noxious scents fluttering up from the ground and listening to the yells of my friends, the odd ring of steel upon steel when one of them happened to connect with a weapon in their uncoordinated movements.

A javelin speared my thigh and a pole shaft cracked me across the shoulders to push me down onto my knees. Air rushed from my lungs on impact, bubbling the blood upon my lips and causing me to cough and sputter in a feeble effort to regain my breath, but the deeper I inhaled the more fumes filled my lungs, drugging my mind further into the unfeeling. A blade cut my shoulder- I barely felt a thing. Even my paws were failing me; their slick palms and fingers slipping off my face and allowing more blood to flow, until all at once they flopped to my side and I could no longer summon them back up. My head became too heavy for my neck and it tipped forward. I was no longer aware of my own body or surroundings as I fell in a bloodied heap into the snow.

I heard them shout, call to me to get up, but I didn't hear my name. All I heard was panic. Panic and fear. I wanted to speak. I wanted to encourage them to fight on- to not give up, but I couldn't command my tongue to make the sounds. I was silenced; imprisoned in my own unresponsive body. All I could do was lie in the red hot snow and listen. Listen to the sounds of their cackling as the vermin came closer, licking their lips and chanting their tribe name-

"We d'Flitchaye! Flitchaye! Flitchaye!"

_Gonna killyer, gonna killyer._ The words slithered through my brain. _Gonna eaddyer, gonna eaddyer._

Of all my battles and this is how I was going down; in the snow, in the smoke and about to be skewered onto a spit. That was what I thought of course, until I heard a voice shout.

_"__REDWALL!" _The war cry was as loud as a thunderclap and the sound of speeding fletch filled the air. I could hear the vermin scattered, I could hear them yell. Twice I was tripped over and stepped on as they retreated, desperate to make it back into their holes.

"Stab downwards!" I heard a strong voice command. "Down into the holes! Keep fighting, mates! Don't give up!"

Steel rang against iron, wood splintered and beasts screeched their last breaths.

"Breath through your mouth!" the voice called again. "Cover your nose. Breath through your mouth!"

My body was starting to shake now. From cold or loss of blood, I didn't know.

"Lis! Fate's fire- Lis!"

Ratherwood. His voice was music to my ears.

Quickly, his paws were on me, turning me over and gasping at my face.

"Wh-what happened to him!" Florgin's voice was full of panic. "Ratherwood- wha… Gowren. Gowren! _Gowren!"_ he shouted over and over again.

"Seasons, stay with us Lis," Ratherwood stammered out and I could feel him trying to wipe off the blood from my face to see my eyes. "Nod if you can hear me. Lis- nod if you can hear me! _Lis!"_

_I can hear you, you ol' Worry-wood,_ I wanted to say to him, but I couldn't make my lips move.

"Amber- get to the trees and shoot down any of those runaways," the strange voice ordered. "Barky, set up a watch and make sure no other creature happens on this spot while those herbs are smoldering. Once we get this lot out of here, destroy the nest."

"Right y'are, Martin."

_Martin?_

Footpaws crunched in the snow and I heard a beast knell beside me. "How is he?" the voice said.

"I-I don't know," Ratherwood gulped and fabric started tearing. "He's not answering me…"

"He won't for a while- he was standing right in the middle of their smoke," the stranger replied. "Flitchaye are cannibals and like to eat their prey fresh. Their herbs paralyze a beast enough so they can't fight back, but aren't yet dead."

My head was lifted and cloth wound around my skull in attempt to stop the flow of blood. "We've got to get you all out of here and back to the abbey. Here- use these to spears and my cloak to make stretcher for him. I'll go see to the others." I heard Ratherwood call Florgin over and the next moment I knew, I was rolled over and hoisted into the air.

"Everything's going to be okay, Lis," Ratherwood mumbled to me as he and Florgin began walking with my body flopped between them. "You're going to be just fine- you'll see…"

No, no, I didn't see. I couldn't see. I could only listen. Listen to this strange voice give instructions and words of encouragement. Rallying my fighters to help their comrades and trudge through the snow saying, _We'll get help at the abbey_. _The abbey isn't far. You can make it. Follow me. You're safe…_

There was something about that voice that made me trust him. I didn't know who he was or what he had even been doing when we were attacked by those Flitchaye, but I somehow knew when he said we were safe, we were.

"Did you see him, Ratherwood?" Florgin whispered. "That's _him._ That's really _him._ That's Mar-tin t-he Warrr-i-orrr…"

Slowly, my black, unmoving world became nothing and I heard no more.

* * *

By the time we reached this Redwall Abbey place I could hear again, but importantly- I could also _feel_.

"Fates-be-damned, fiking VERMIN!" I bellowed to the ceiling of the bloody room they called an infirmary. "Let me off of this thing- I'm going to skin every last _Flitchaye_ alive…"

"Now, hold still," a hefty mousemaid ordered me as she tried to start the thread in my skin.

"Ouch!" I yelped and gave her a snarl. "Fates' Fire, lassie- watch where you're sticking that thing!"

"Lis, settle down," Rath tried to coaxed me. "You're making it more difficult than it already is…"

"Let's see how still you stay while you lay here and I poke a needle in your face!" I snapped back. "Ah! Great Seasons…"

"Will somebeast shut him up?" a squirrelmaid huffed in a gruff tone and glared at me where she was holding a bowl for a hogwife who was cleaning up a wound on Carik. "It's only a few stitches."

"Only a few stitches!" I growled. "Get over here tuft-ears and I'll give you a few stitches…"

"I'd like to see you try, short-tail."

"_Short-tail!"_ I roared. "Short-tail? Listen here, lassie- kneel in front of me and I'll give you a _short-tail_ to gag on for a bit."

Gasps vibrated around the room and Florgin bumbled out some sort of apology. Ratherwood on the other paw dug his claws deeper into my arm.

"Ouch! Fates, Rath-"

"Lis…" Ratherwood hissed at me. "They're trying to help us."

"Help us?" I gaped. "Helping would involve- AH!" I yelled and twisted back and forth as the needle poked at my flesh again. Kicking my legs with all the flair of a youngster taking his first bit of fever tonic, I exclaimed. "That. _Fiking_. _HURTS!"_

"You sit still or I'll have to burn it shut and then we'll see how well you jump!" the healer berated me. I felt Ratherwood and Florgin tighten their hold on me. Even Jalen jumped on my legs to hold me down.

"Ratherwood, I thought you said he was the tough one out of your lot?"

Finally, the damned voice from the forest decided to show himself. This _Martin _as every beast had been calling him, had disappeared once we were shunted into this bloody building and set upon by these frumpy females calling themselves 'sisters.' I can't say as though I was impressed by him; ruddy disappointed actually. Here was this so-called hero- this mighty Martin the Warrior we had shoved down our throats since the day we landed in Mossflower, and there he stood at the end of my cot in a plain shirt and jerkin, wearing a plain belt, carrying a plain sword at his side. Oh sure, he was a tall mouse and strongly built, but nothing I would consider extraordinary. His eyes were blue and his voice deep, but what were those besides a maid's wish-list item. From all his supposed bloody battles, there wasn't a scar on him and he looked only a pawful of seasons older than Florgin. Far too young to have done all these things he was fabled to have done.

Yet there he stood, a smirk on his face while he wound a linen strip around his forearm, splitting the end with his teeth and somehow managing to tie off the bandage on his own with one paw. I'd only ever seen one other beast do that before, but there is no way this mouse would have ever known Oggin Swale.

"I'm a hell of a lot tougher than you, lad," I grumbled back into his smiling face.

"I thought you might be," he snickered and tapped Jalen on the shoulder to motion him back. "Then you'll just lay there and let Cecily stitch you up without any weights to hold you down."

On cue, the maid jabbed her point into my skin and out of nothing but spite I held fast and didn't move. He held my gaze for the second pull to make sure I didn't recede back into resistance, before giving me an approving nod and turning to make his rounds about the sickbay. Ha! Like I needed his approval. By the third stitch I had already invented four new names to call him when I could unclench my jaw and after fifty-seven pokes, I'd forgotten every single one.

"One for each of the Southers' tails you saved," Ratherwood winked at me when the maiden was done her work. "How does it feel?"

"Sore," I mumbled out and groaned when she wiped some sort of salve over the wound. "And I wouldn't say I saved them."

"You traipsed onto that mound alone when all of you could have wound up there and drugged," Rath assured me. "It was only luck I ran into this Redwall group who were tracking the Flitchaye when Florgin and Lochlan found me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but it hurt too much and exhaled loudly instead. "How does it look?" I finally muttered out.

"Well…"

* * *

I was ordered to stay quiet in the infirmary for the rest of the day. Ratherwood and Florgin sat with me in shifts and I floated in and out of sleep thanks to some hefty herbal concoction that was to take away some of my pain and swelling. They fussed and flittered over me, these sisters of Redwall, and I lapped up every moment of it. A particularly pretty one named, well, I think she was called Caradey, even brought some ice wrapped in a towel for Ratherwood to hold over my face.

"Martin asked me to bring you some," she said softly and gave us both a smile. "He said it would take the ache away."

_Then he shouldn't have sent you if he didn't want me to ache,_ I leered in my mind, but instead slurred out, "Thank-ya, lassie."

I let Ratherwood press the ice to my forehead until she was gone and then I snatched the clump of melting cold from his paw and used it to cool off a part of my body rising with heat.

"Aw, Lis- for the love of-"

"Just using it to take the ache away, Rath," I grumbled out and clenched my teeth as something precious shrank up into my gut.

"I'm not touching that now I've known where it's been."

"That's fine- I will," I replied and moved the ice back up against my throbbing cheek.

"You know, you really need to control yourself," Ratherwood berated me. "We're guests in this place. This isn't Southsward- you're not a name here that can get away with anything you want. You have to _behave yourself."_

"I am."

"Not."

"Ratherwood, if I wasn't behaving myself, I'd already be smiling, not grimacing." He just shook his head at me. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Until they say we can move you."

Eventually, the day drifted away into evening and a portly hedgehog named Ferdy or some such nonsense led us out from the infirmary once I was discharged and directed us towards some sort of meeting place called Cavern Hole. Stupid name, really. Cavern. Hole. Didn't anybeast stop to think that a cavern _is _a hole? And the woodlanders said these abbey creatures were smart? Wondrously knowledgeable, I believe the phrase was. It must translate into southern tongue as backcountry bumpkins.

Still, I had to give them a bit of credit. This abbey was really something. It was easily ten times the size of the Marnier's Manor and we had only seen a sniff of it as this young hog kept telling us. _"Just wait until you see it in the morning!"_ he repeated over and over again. _"There's nothing like Redwall Abbey!"_

Since it was nightfall, we had to take his word for it and as he led us forward with his torch down the redstone corridors, I was becoming antsy about the other fighters. Once they were bandaged and cared for, they had been escorted down to this hole to recover from the effects of the vermin's smoke. I didn't like the way they kept dividing us and offering comfort. It was too nice by Southwardian standards that was for sure; we were fighters after all and death and destruction walks alongside us- it was normal for us to be shunned and cast aside. We hadn't experienced as much prejudice here in the Midlands, but they still had been at least weary about us. Here, it was like we were part of the family; distant cousins arriving for a visit.

"Ground ransom paste!" Florgin exclaimed as he explained how he, Lochlan and Ratherwood were able to suffer the smells of the Flitchaye's haze. "The lady squirrel tipped out heads right back and shoved a pawful of the stuff up our noses. Couldn't smell a thing by the time we got back to all of you."

"But we can sure smell you, matey!" a plump mouse wearing a green tunic and feathered cap swaggered on up to us from the darkness. Seasons, what is with some creatures insisting they wear ridiculous looking hats? "Come t'meet ya, mates. I'm Gonff of Saint Ninian's, the Prince of Mousethieves."

"The _what?"_ Ratherwood chuckled as the mouse thrust his arm out towards us, shaking our paws in turn. "Prince of what?"

"Of Mousethieves, matey," he reiterated with a wink. "And don't ya forget it."

"Why would they call you that?" Florgin asked and chortled when the fat mouse threw a paw over his shoulder like they were old pals. I would have raised an eyebrow if my eyes weren't nearly swollen shut.

"Because me paws are the nimblest claws in all of Mossflower Country," he scoffed. "I can even lift the whiskers right off yore snout without ya even knowing it."

"Lies!" Florgin laughed.

"Truth, matey," and as he could tell none of us were convinced, he added. "I'll prove it t' ya tomorrow, after ya've rested a bit. Ah, there they are now."

"Who?" I muffled out and turned down the hall to see my fighters walking towards us with this Martin lad at the head with a three-wick candelabrum. I breathed a sigh of relief to see them all safe and sound.

"All patched up?" this Martin said with a crooked smile.

"Luckily for the weasel," I growled and the stitches pulled enough to make me wince.

"Shutting down Cavern Hole early tonight, Martin?" Gonff asked as our two parties started to mingle and my fighters gave me looks of disgust, pity and embarrassment. Pretty much any emotion that would be, or should be, quickly followed by a puke. Damn Ratherwood and his- 'oh, it won't leave much of a mark.'

"I thought it would be best for this group to turn in early," Martin replied. "They've had an exciting day." Turning to us he added, "we've had all your belongings taken to one of the dormitories. Follow me and I'll take you there."

"We don't have to sleep outside?" Rowik piped up from beside me.

"No!" Martin laughed. "Why in the Seasons would we make you sleep outside?"

"We're fighters," Ratherwood said matter-of-factly. "Peaceful creatures don't always… trust us."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't trust you," Martin countered and raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Because from what I can tell, all you need is rest, clean clothes and a good meal."

"Some would just see our blades and turn us out," I forced my swollen face to say.

Martin shrugged. "Redwall Abbey was founded in the aftermath of war. We all here have fought for a cause at one point or another, but now have a duty to uphold the peace. Just because we wield a blade does not make us bad beasts.

"Gonff, will you take Ferdy to the kitchens and collect that extra cauldron of stew Goodie was making? I can still hear their stomachs growling," he said and motioned to us. The thought of warm food made my mouth drip with spit; and I couldn't do anything, but let it dribble down my shirt. Real classy, I was.

"Aye, matey," the mousethief winked and took his paw off Florgin's shoulders. "C'mon Ferdy- time t' use those muscles of yours!"

They walked ten paces away from us when the plump mouse turned and waved Florgin's flask in the air. "Missin' something, mate?"

"But- but- hey, that's mine!" Florgin gasped. "How'd ya… I mean- what- I mean… I didn't feel a thing!"

"Prince o' Mousethieves, matey," he said and tossed the flask back to him. "Prince. O'. Mousethieves. And don't forget it."

"Or he'll remind you every time," Martin chuckled as the two walked off. "Right, well let's get you to your chamber for the night and you can have your soup there. I'm sure Goodie will be sending over some tea and biscuits too!"

As we walked, Martin explained to us the various aspects of their abbey. There was a Mother Abbess, whose name was Germaine. She was old and though I hadn't seen her, some of the less injured beasts had when they first arrived. Mossflower apparently had a "Squirrelqueen;" supposedly the very squirrelmaid I had all but told to fike off. Ah, well, just another day of being me. Warthorn, or Skipper as he was affectionately and notably called, we'd meet the next day as he was sure to show up now that trouble had been roused up. And there was Goodie (aka- THE FOOD), Ben (aka- THE ALE), Barky, Ferdy, Coggs, Columbine, Mena, Cecily (aka- THE NEEDLE)… the list went on and on, and on and on… and on… and on.

"And Bella of Brockhall," Martin chimed as we round the corner and he stopped in front of a set of double doors. "She's been low the past few days with a cold, but hearing there's new beast in the abbey, I'm sure you'll see her at breakfast. And now," he said and pushed the doors up, "your chamber."

It was a large rectangle room with tall windows every ten paces covering the inner wall. There was a hearth at each end and a screened off area for changing in the one corner. Along the outer wall, rough pine cots were stacked four-high with our haversacks and meagre belongings piled in front of them.

"The wood boxes are full, but you'll have to light the fires," Martin said plainly and went about lighting the wall sconces with his candles. "And the beds will need set up- we weren't really expecting company!"

"Do you want us to give you our arms while we're here?" Ratherwood said from beside me.

Martin stopped and looked at him. "No."

"You don't care if we carry weapons?" I questioned. "You're not worried about us?"

"Do I need to?" Martin looked me in the eye. "Liswano, wasn't it?" I nodded. "Well, Liswano- do I need to take away your blades and lock you up for traveling into unknown land?"

"You wouldn't be the first."

"No, but I won't ever be one to do that either. Keep your blades."

Setting his candelabrum down on the center table he tipped his head towards our packs. "Do you have blankets in there?"

"We have cloaks," Flintin piped up as he helped Kipper lift down a bed. "They're pretty warm."

"And soaked and bloodied to boot," Martin laughed. "I'll go get some blankets." And with that, he simply left. Chaos ensued.

"Did you see that- that was- he was…"

"Redwall Abbey! We made it to Redwall Abbey!"

"Are they really sending us _more_ food?"

"Look at this- a real fire- a real fire in a hearth!"

"Hey- there's a tub behind this screen. Do you think they'd let us have enough water for a bath?"

"Wow, look at this- all these cots have _mattresses…"_

"I don't remember the last time I slept on a mattress."

Ratherwood helped me over to a set-up bed. "Just sit and relax," he told me. "I'll get them all sorted."

I gave him a nod and looked out the window. "That white fluffy snow stuff is falling again."

"It hasn't stopped snowing since we got here," Ratherwood replied and we both turned at the sound of Flintin walloping Florgin over the head with a pillow. "I'd say we're here for a while."

"Great-" I muttered out and lay down on the surprisingly comfortable cot. "-Can't wait for morning."

* * *

**Alright, so I never pictured Lis to be one that would fawn over Martin like so many others do in the canon Redwall books. You'll have to see what happens in the next chapter to understand what brought him under the warrior's wing.**

**And so now, the moment of truth- REVIEWS! Let me know your thoughts/comments/questions... :)**


	24. Duty, Honour, Bravery- Part 6: Adapting

**Alright, well first and foremost- There's one more Lis segment coming to you after this one, so he'll have a total of seven. I blame him completely for this because I couldn't cut his first morning as a 'Redwall.' I know this is ridiculously long, but well... I couldn't decide what to cut out, so I just kept it all. These tales were originally used to _explain_ things after all... Ah, well. Sorry for the long read. **

**And special thanks to my reviewers- Saraa Luna, Thomas the Traveler, Shadowed One 19 and Lady Storm! Thanks guys for taking the time to review- it means a lot. ;)**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part 6- Adapting**

_"__In the course of my life, I have often had to eat my words, and I must confess that I have always found it a wholesome diet."_  
- Winston Churchill -

* * *

I had forgotten what it felt like to sleep in bed; in a room, under a roof and with the comfort of being behind solid walls, let alone sleep after a warm meal, with a thick blanket and a blazing hearth fire heating the air. Wounds or no wounds, tincture or not, I slept like a mouseling with a belly full of warm milk.

When I woke the next morning, most of my fighters were already stirring and stretching in the morning light. Some of them were folding blankets, others poking the coals to life in the grates while the rest of them gawked and cambered on top of one another to look out the windows. Beside me, Ratherwood lay on his back, his paws behind his head, as he stared up into the ceiling.

"How do you think they did it?" he muttered and pointed upwards. "Look at the way the beams cross and the stonework… I've never seen anything like it- not even in the Mariner's Manor."

I glanced up. "Ah, Rath- it's just rocks and timbers."

"I guess so," he breathed and turned his head towards me. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and hungry," I chuckled as my stomach rumbled. "What are they all staring at?"

"The abbey. You should get up and have a look."

I grimaced as I sat up. "Maybe later. The ones there seem to be ogling enough for all of us."

"You need to see their healers this morning," Ratherwood said, his voice full of concern. "You're more swollen than I thought you'd be."

"I'm fine."

"Hey, Lis!" Flintin called and tried waving me over to the windows. "You gotta come see this!"

"I will, laddie," I smirked at him and groaned at the pull on my stitches. "Just give me time to wake up.

"Have any of these abbey beasts been past to make sure we're even alive?" I asked the whole group.

They all shrugged and looked around at each other. "Do you think they forgot about us?" Carik asked.

"Three score fight beasts under their roof?" I chortled. "Oh, ya- we completely slipped their mind."

"Maybe we were supposed to meet them somewhere," Florgin said. "Kipper- didn't the one brother what's-his-beast say something about a breakfast?"

"Yep, back in that place with the tables and big fire."

"Food?" I exclaimed. "There's food to be had and we're all lounging about here and gawking out windows?" I jumped to my footpaws and tightened my belt. "Lads- priorities!"

"Lis, you need to slow down," Ratherwood tried to chide me. "Seasons, you look fate-awful."

"I'm going to look a scant awfuller too if I don't get food in my gut," I grumbled and pushed the feeling of pain aside for the time. "C'mon lads- lead the way to the vittles."

Florgin blinked at me. "I don't know where I'm going?"

"What do you mean you 'don't know where you're going'?" I snipped and pointed a claw at him. "You've been there."

"It's a big place, Lis," Kipper said. "And it was dark when we came here last night. I don't even remember how to get back."

"Well, isn't this all daisies?" A furious growl sounded from my stomach. Damned goodnight's sleep always left me hungrier than a hare in the morning and there was only one thing to be done about it- wander the bloody halls until we either found the food, or a beast to take us to it. Simple as that.

"Lis, where are you going?" Ratherwood laughed at me as I walked to the doorway. Staggered to the door is more like it. My balance felt a little off and I couldn't see all that well through the slits my eyes could only open to, but I made it to the door.

"Going to get fed- what does it look like?" I gruffed out, taking both latches in my paws and pushing forward into what I thought would be a grand exit… and nothing. The doors didn't even budge. "What the Fates?" I muttered and shoved them again. And again. And again. Still nothing.

"Ah!" I yelled. "Fiking creatures locked us in!" I spun round to the group. "Oh ya, sure 'keep your weapons- I don't want your weapons,' he says- this supposed great warrior of yours- and now look." I pointed back at the door. "We can keep our weapons because they are just going to lock us up! Fiking Red-Hell Abbey!"

Flintin leaned into Ratherwood's shoulder. "Ratherwood- his face is turning purple." And then Carik said, "D' ya think if he gets worked up enough those threads will let loose? I mean- his face could literally _explode."_

"Lis-"

"Don't even start, Rath!" I bellowed and kicked the door to prove it wasn't moving. "They tricked us. I knew they were too nice- that they were playing us for fools…"

"Is he always like this?" Rowik questioned Ratherwood while I continue my well versed rant.

"Only when he's hungry," my friend sighed and broke away from the contingent. Like an old hogwife, Rath gathered my paws in his and gave them a pat.

"There, there, Lis. It's alright." I could have punched the smile off his face.

"Ratherwood, I swear to Hellsgates if you-" I paused as he let go of my paws and shooed me away from the doors. Pushing up his sleeves, Ratherwood grasped the handles and made as if he was going to exert a mighty push and then all at once reared back and flung the doors… inwards. The laughter behind me echoed throughout our room and down the darkened hallway.

"I fiking hate you sometimes."

"Now, Lis, come on- _language."_

"Language my arse. Don't start pulling all father-figure with me." I grumbled under my breath and held my chin up higher so I could sort of see something. Between the swelling pushing my brows down and the puffiness in my cheeks, I had a very small window of sight, but I wasn't going to let that stop me in the least. Turning on heel and strode out of the door. "Next you're going to tell me to- _Oof!"_

I walked square into the chest of a monster.

Luckily, my head was half turned so I didn't get the full brunt of it on my face wound, but all the same, I ricocheted five paces back off the masses of puff and fluff concealed under her linen dress and apron.

"Son of a-" By a miracle I somehow stopped my tongue from finishing the sentence and cradled my aching face in my paws. "What in the Seasons-" I looked up to see the stern features of a badger- just my rotten luck. "This has got to be dream."

"It would appear it is simply a nightmare," the badger replied and brushed away my imaginary filth from her front. Bringing her massive paw up to her nose, she sniffed and wrinkled it up in disgust. "And a smelly one at that." Turning behind her, she waved forward a group of five moles carrying baskets and two squirrels with a bucket of water in each paw. "Lady Amber wasn't jesting when she said you lot were in need of a dunk in a river. Too bad the abbey's pond is frozen over or else we'd be going there right now."

"Hey, hey, stripedog," I snipped. "Watch who you're talking to."

She completely ignored me and addressed Ratherwood. "Use the water to wash with the best you can until we can get proper baths ready for you later, and take off those dirty clothes. There're some fresh shirts in these baskets you can wear while we wash your normal wares."

"Thank-you, ma'am," Ratherwood said and bowed his head in respect. "We're much obliged."

"Hmm," she mused and looked down at me again. "You had best removed your bedding from your cots. By the looks of you lot, the sheets will need washing as well."

I crossed my paws over my chest. "And who do you think you are?"

"I am Bella of Brockhall," she replied and raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm Redwall's Badger Mother- I look after the Dibbuns."

"Dibbuns?" Ratherwood asked and took an offered basket of shirts in his paws to pass it back into our midst. "What's a 'Dibbuns'?"

"Young ones."

"Then why are you bothering us?" I grumped out. The idea of a General Orleon in a skirt was not sitting overly well with me.

"Oh, because you're smelly, dirty and defiant," she chuckled at me. "Sounds like an overgrown Dibbun to me."

I just _harrumphed_ at her and tried to walk around her. She sidestepped into my path. "Wash," she commanded me.

"Food first."

"Wash, dress, healer, _then_ food."

"Nope."

"Yes."

"Listen here, lassie-"

She burst out laughing and got the kindest smile on her face I had ever seen on a creature. It completely baffled me. "_Lassie!_ I'm a little old to be called a lassie there _laddie_."

Taking a bar of white square block out of her apron pocket, she pressed it down into my paw. "You'll need this."

"What's this?" I pondered aloud as she turned away from all of us and motioned for the Redwallers to follow her. At the sound of my voice, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"Soap," she said. "Mint soap. _Strong_ mint soap with ground peach pits. Don't get any in your eyes, but scrub with it the best you can. We'll see you in Cavern Hole for the morning meal."

I watched to see what direction she turned down the corridor, before giving a huff and kicking the tails of my mice into the room again.

"Alright, you heard the ol' stripe-faced lass- get washed up. Gowren, there'd better be just a plain jerkin or something in those baskets. Fates-be-damned if I'm going to wear one of those stupid looking green smocks!"

* * *

An hour later we were washed, dressed and on our way down the hall clad in a montage of borrowed clothes attempting to find this cursed 'Hole.' I had always prided myself on being able to find a good hole quickly, but trying to find this one had me more stumped then the first time I tried to undo a maid's corset.

"Where do you think the food is?" Florgin whispered when we got to yet another series of corridors. "Which way do we go?"

"Bloody 'gates, lad," I muttered and pushed my way around him. "Follow your nose!"

"Leave it to the walking gut to find his way to a kitchen in a maze!" Ratherwood laughed.

"Only thing I can sniff out faster is a skirt." Ah, the Seasons must have heard me and a pretty little thing trotted her tail in front of me.

"Oh!" she squealed in a way that made my blood rush. "There you all are! I've been looking for you."

_And I've been looking for you._

She smiled at us and wiped her paws on her apron. Ah, luck. Lassie looked like she'd been slaving in front of a hot oven all morning. My fingers ached to rub the knots out of her shoulders and perhaps have her rub a knot or two from my body as well…

"I'm Columbine," she said in a soft voice and tossed her plaited headfur over her shoulder. "Did the shirts fit?"

"Most of them," Ratherwood replied for all of us. "But we'll make do."

"Good. Hungry?" _For more than you know._

We all mumbled our response and she waved us down the hallway. "Follow me. Cavern Hole is this way."

"I bet there's nothing _cavernous _about it. Nice and ti-" I breathed and felt Rath's elbow jab my ribs. "-What?"

"I heard that and don't even think about it."

"What? Like you weren't thinking the same thing- look at the curve to those-"

"-Window arches. Marvellous!" Ratherwood said loudly when the lass cocked her head back slightly. "This is a beautiful building you have here, Columbine."

"I'll give your regards to Abbess Germaine and Martin," she grinned. "It was they who designed it."

"See, I told you Martin the Warrior built Redwall by his own back," Flintin hissed at the others.

"Is it true he carried two blocks at a time, miss?" Florgin piped up; she turned around and the poor lad got all humble-like under her pretty brown eyes. "I mean, the woodlanders told us he did… erm…" and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Martin- carry two of _these_ blocks at a time?" she laughed and pointed to the large slabs of stone making up the walls. "You can't be serious."

"I told it was tripe, lad," I snarked at him.

"Martin didn't carry two blocks- he carried _three."_

Columbine led us through the abbey, stopping briefly at the infirmary for this Sister Cecily maid to click her tongue at the swelling of my face and wipe a thick layer of strong smelling gunk on my wound. She prattled about me the whole time, saying things like the stitches were holding up well and there was lots of bruising, but it didn't look infected. I shrugged her comments off and tried to make light of it while I watch Florgin and Rowik talking to the lovely Columbine. She jested with them and made them blush at her attentions, and I couldn't help but chuckle at them as they leaned their bodies after her when she walked away towards the others. Newbies.

"Cecily, can you finish up with them after breakfast?" the maid asked when the healer started to inspect Kipper's arm wound. "I really need to get them to Cavern Hole before there's nothing left!"

"Alright, but bring them straight back here afterwards," she ordered. "I'm not done with them yet!"

We walked for what seemed an eternity until we came to a large nave with high vaulted ceilings and tall stained glass windows warming the room in hues of red, orange and green from the morning sun.

"And this is the Great Hall," Columbine said, sweeping her paw in a grand-like gesture. "It is the central part of Redwall Abbey. Everything in the main building can be reached from here by one of the arcades or alleys."

"Good morning, friends," an old voice sounded from the dais where an ancient looking mouse sat in a large high-backed chair. To either side of her, four smaller chairs sat flanked by tall floor candelabrums; while behind her were an ornately carved altar and a funny looking arras hanging above it. It looked more like a scrap of cloth really- all worn around the edges with threads hanging from it. I mean, if they were going to put something on display like that you would think they'd cut off the strings?

We all mumbled a sort of greeting in one fashion or another and the elder maid got to her footpaws. I have expected her to be bent double and cracking joints the whole time she walked, but she was incredibly spry for her look and strode her way towards us with the barest lean on her cane.

"Please forgive me for sitting just now," she said plainly. "These old bones of mine cannot stand for the hours on end that they used to. Yet where are my manners," she waved her paw before her as if dusty off her memory. "I am Abbess Germaine of Redwall Abbey, but you may call me Mother Abbess."

"Ha ha, Mother Abbess," I heard Florgin snicker and then yelp slightly when some beast had the sense to cuff his head. The old lass just raised an eyebrow and I smiled at the twinkle in her eye. It was like she was dying to retort something, but seasons of propriety held her tongue. I liked her instantly.

"Now," she said and clapped her paws. "Your introductions can wait until you're fed. I trust you are hungry."

Sixty empty stomachs grumbled their response.

"Hmm, I can see Martin's insistence for a large morning meal today was warranted," the Abbess chortled. "Trust a fighter to know a fighter I suppose."

She motioned for us to follow her to a wide flight of stairs and we descended into what the abbess introduced as Cavern Hole. I barely noticed Columbine slip away down another flight of stairs to the left of us I was gawking around so much. Tables, benches and chairs littered the large space. There were slit windows and banners hung down the center beam- green squares with scalloped bottoms spelling out the name _REDWALL_ in gold lettering and red trim. At the far end of the room was an oversized hearth, nearly the size of the whole wall, and between each window and on every pillar there was a sconce waiting to be lit.

"Welcome to Cavern Hole," a voice with a familiar gruff tone said to my left. I turned slightly to see the squirrelmaid I had insulted standing with a burly looking male and what appeared to be her squirrelet in her paws. Seeing my face, she got a smug look and tried her damnedest not to smile at my misfortune. "I didn't have the chance to introduce myself properly in our flight 'n fight yesterday. I am Lady Amber, Squirrelqueen of Mossflower. This is my mate, Barklad, and our son, Timmin."

"Mama?" the young one whispered loudly. "What's wrong with his face?"

"Oh, that's just what happens if you use naughty words and call beasts names all the time, Tim," she replied sweetly. "The uglier you sound, the uglier you are."

The hell I was ugly.

"Good morrow, my Lady Amber," I said with all the gallantry of my upbringing as I executed a perfect bow. "The sun may be shining in the sky, but I daresay it is brighter inside while you grace our presence."

Every beast within hearing distance laughed- even her mate.

"Aw, now Amber, they don't seem so bad," this Barklad chortled. She obviously hadn't told him _exactly_ what I said to her in the infirmary. "C'mon, mates- got some food waiting for you."

And that they did. Long rectangle tables played host to more food than I had seen since the last Season's Feast at the manor eight, no nine… er, however many seasons ago. Jaws dropped, bellies roared (again) and mouths watered at the sight of porridge spiced with cinnamon, scones, breads, turnovers, honey, jams of every colour, apples, cheeses, and a large roasted fish lay on a platter that took two hedgehogs to lift out of the kitchens. Cordial, mint water, tea- everything you could ever think to eat or drink.

"We get to eat that?" Flintin gasped with all the reserve of his sixteen seasons. There was a ring of laughter and a hogmaid came up to him and actually wiped the drool from his chin with a kerchief.

"Of course you do!" she giggled and winked at all of us. "Who d' ya think Ma and Columbine made it all for? Oh- I'm Posey."

"You'll have to help yourselves- grab a plate and find yourselves a seat. There's lots of room!" Bella boomed out of nowhere.

We didn't need to be asked twice. Tossing manners and all forms of civility aside, we dove on the table. Plates were quickly tossed around to each of us and we all adapted the 'taste before you place' method; take a bite (or fully eat) one of everything, before you put it on your plate. I don't even remember walking to a table or sitting my tail down. I just recall licking my lips to shove in a scone stuffed with dark honey, currant jam and preserved pears when my stitches pulled and I dropped everything in my paws to grasp at my face. I tear sprang to my eye and I swear to this day it was due to the denial of food and not the pain Ratherwood said I was in.

"Take smaller portions, Lis," Rath whispered to me and cut the pastry in half with his knife before squishing it down with his palm. "You don't need to be in a rush- I don't think the food is going anywhere!"

I growled a bit under my breath before stuffing the reformed scone into my mouth. Even chewing hurt and I swallowed the lump of food in a large gulp.

"I'm going to get some porridge," I proclaimed and stood up from the table. Squeezing between benches of face-filling fighters and chatting abbey beasts, I made my way back to the buffet and started ladling oatmeal into a bowl.

"Psst." I stopped my movements at the sound and looked around for its maker.

"Psst." A pause. "Psst. Oi- down here."

I looked about the floor and nearly jumped when I little paw slipped out from under the table cloth to tap my footpaw. "Hey- I said _down here_," it whispered urgently.

"Oops," I mumbled and knocked over a few wooden spoons from their place on the table. "I'll get it," I said to no beast in particular and proceeded with my cover up. Kneeling down I picked up a couple of utensils and popped my head under the linen as if searching for more; there before me was a chubby little mouselet with more mischief written on his face than Ol' Bushy had whiskers.

He started slightly at the sight of me, something I was getting used to beasts doing by now, then grinned at me. "Hey matey, think ya can pinch me a turnover?"

"Why not just get it yourself?" I chuckled.

"Cuz I already had breaky," he said, rolling his eyes at my ignorance. "If Miss Bella sees me still eatin', she'll cuff me ears!"

"I can just imagine," I snickered. "What's your name, laddie?"

"Gonff, son of Gonff of Saint Ninian's," the young one replied. "Ba every beast just calls me Gonflet."

"And what if Bella cuffs my ears for pinching for you?"

"I'll pay ya back."

"How?"

"I'll get you an extra helpin' o' dessert at dinner t'night."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Just trust me."

I thought about it for a moment just to drag him along. "Wait here a minute," I said and stretched back up, plucking a raspberry turnover from the pile and slipping it under the cloth.

"Thanks mate."

"Ah, Lisframi!" I turned round to see the plump mouse from the previous night standing at the top of the stairs from the Great Hall. He waved to me and jumped down the steps, shaking paws and laughing at some of the other fighters he must have met while I was 'resting' before strutting over to me. "Found Cavern Hole, I see."

"That we did."

"Ah, they got a good spread out for ya at least," he chirped and put a paw around my shoulders. "Not bad on a moment's notice, eh Lisframi?"

"Liswano," I corrected him, twisting away from his embrace and taking a step back. Fike, why in the name of the Seasons was he wearing that ridiculous hat- again?

"Lisfrano?"

"Liswano."

"Lisrano?"

I put my bowl down on the table and used my paws to extenuate the syllables. "Lis-wan-o."

"Lis-maa…"

"Just call me _Lis_," I said in utter exasperation. This mouse was an idiot, plain and simple.

"Well, c'mon Lis- let's get to the table and get finished up before Martin comes back t' polish off the dishes! I'm telling ya, nothing be safe with his hungry tail coming in from a night o' fighting and tracking."

"Fighting and tracking?" Ratherwood grumbled out with a mouthful of food. Gulping down a drink of strawberry cordial, he cleared his throat. "What was he out fighting?"

"Oh, probably any stragglers from that Flitchaye nest you lot stumbled upon," the mouse said and jammed a tart from Gowren's plate in his mouth with a wink. "Him 'n Skip lef sometem afore minnigh affer sommening."

"Uncle Mar-tin!" Gonflet bellowed and streaked out from under his hiding spot. "Uncle Martin, Uncle Martin!"

"Gonflet- what are ya doing-" _Crash._ Every plate, platter and bowl toppled unto the stone flour in a clamorous ring of pewter, tin and wood; and every scrumptious morsel of food spilled along with it. How he managed to do it, I have no idea, but somehow the mouselet got the linen corner stuck in his belt and it tagged along with him in his sprint.

"GONFLET!" the badger roared. The little one froze and pulled his shoulders up to his ears. "Erm… So-rry?" he squeaked out and grit his teeth into a smile when his father rose to his paws to go to him.

_Smash._ In a cruel conclusion, the last bottle of cordial tipped over and shattered onto the floor.

"Gonflet, what have I told ya about hangin' out under tables!" Gonff snipped at his son and threw on an authoritative stance to shake his head above the youngster. "But here y' are making a scene in front o' new friends."

"I said I was sorry," he mewled and pointed to the stairs. "I just wanted to go see Uncle Martin."

All eyes turned to the stairs where the _heroic_ mouse was standing in with a smirk on his face and a bright red cloak tossed over his shoulder. Martin had his sword belted at his side and still another plain jerkin covering his body. He looked more fit for drinking in a tavern than a night out raiding vermin! He had an otter beside him- big brute, might have been a strong one in his day (a hundred seasons ago), but gray- ha! He had more gray on his chin than a searat had fleas.

"There he is!" Carik started the swooning. "Martin the Warrior." If I hadn't been enjoying my breakfast so much (or if there were still a table full of more) I would have turned my head and retched.

"He doesn't even look tired- didn't the fat one say he was out all night?"

"Look- there's his sword."

"Do you think he'd mind if we asked to see it?"

"'Gates lads, pull yourselves together," I snorted. "You're sounding like a bunch of maids again."

"Good morning, mates." I jumped at the unexpected voice behind me and I turned to see _thee_ Martin standing behind me. Oh, I should have practiced my curtsy!

Ratherwood got to his paws. "Good morning, Martin," he said and shook the warrior's paw. "And thank-you, for everything really. This is too much."

"Don't mention it, Ratherwood," he smiled and clapped my friend on the back before addressing all of us, "Mates, I'd like you to meet Skipper Warthorn of Camp Willow. Skip, meet, er, well- meet the Southsward Fighters."

I went stiff as a board at the title. How did he know we were from Southsward?

"G'day, mateys!" the otter's jovial tone vibrated through the air. "Glad t'see ya in Mossflower an' 'ere at Redwall Abbey. You be stayin' t'winter I presume?"

"We're just… well, we don't know what we're doing." Ratherwood's statement echoed the thought of every single Souther in the room. Now that we had made it out of Southsward and across the wintery Midlands to this Redwall Abbey, what in the Seasons were we doing?

There was an awkward silence between all of us for a moment before Bella called Warthorn over to her and Martin sighed and plopped himself down on the bench beside me.

"That's not as good as I'd hoped it would look," he said and tipped his head towards my face wound. "I'll talk to Germaine and maybe she has some ideas on how to get the swelling down that Cecily hasn't thought about yet."

I had to at least be polite. "Thanks, laddie."

"Laddie!" he laughed. "I don't think I'm a laddie!"

"Every beast is a laddie to Lis," Florgin jested and flipped his paw over the table for a shake. "I'm Florgin. This is my brother Flintin, and there's Skipton, Jalen, Tagger, Rowik, Carik, Gowren…" he continued to list every single fighter in our group and they all nodded in respect to the warrior.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Martin chuckled at their enthusiasm and nodded at the mess of food being cleaned up by a team of habitwearers with Gonflet at the head. "I hope you all got enough to eat."

"Sure did," Rowik piped up. "That's more food than we've had in seasons!"

We talked and babbled on about nothing in particular. I was starting to warm up to this Redwall warrior. He seemed to be a normal sort- not conceited or prideful; just a damned regular mouse carrying a sword. But there was something about him I couldn't quite place. Something about his eyes that threw me, like when he looked at you, those blue peepers of his could swallow you whole. Whatever he had done in his short life, he'd done a lot of. There was history in those eyes. Pain and sorrow were locked in there mixed with a hefty dose of joy and happiness, but there was also fire. Deep down there was a fire that burned bright.

"You're welcome to stay at Redwall as long as you like," Martin offered as he rose from the table when a beast called his name. "Travelling around Mossflower in the winter is not the most pleasant experiences, I know. We'll see you're- oh, no. When did they get here?" he laughed and slapped the table with his paw. "Goody!" he yelled towards the stairs leading to the kitchen. "Lock the larders- the walking stomachs have arrived!"

"I say, there Martin, not a nice way t' greet a chap," a hare in regimentals jested from the stair where he was flanked by two other long-ears. Noticing us newcomers, he served us a smart salute. "Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol, at y' service, sirrah!"

"Walking stomachs," Martin whispered to us with a smirk. "No food is safe when their about." Clearing his throat, the warrior proclaimed. "Ffring, Honeydew and Wother, meet the Southsward Fighters. Mates, meet Ffring, Honeydew and Wother."

"Heard you were having some trouble with Flitchaye, so thought we'd come lend a paw, wot!" Wother chimed up and shook Martin's paw. There sure were a lot of paw shaking going on in this place.

"A little late for that!" he laughed. "Took out most of those runty weasels yesterday and the stragglers, Skip and I dealt with last night. So it seems you've only made it here in time to eat."

"Aye, sorry ol' chap," Ffring chuckled. "But since ya mentioned food…"

"Here," I said and held up my plate of pastries I couldn't eat. "I'm done with this."

"I say sirrah, mighty decent of you, wot!"

I shrugged my shoulder at the lead hare. "Well, I want to eat later and this at least will delay you from pilfering the pantries!"

They laughed at me and oddly enough, besides Martin and that Skipper otter, these beasts were the only ones not to grimace at my face. They must have been seasoned fighters.

"Had a few run-ins with hares have ya, matey?" Skipper guffawed.

"My father's guards are made up of hares. Some of the biggest face-stuffers you'd ever seen."

"Aye, my mother used to say a daily meal for the guards took more time than preparing a banquet!" Ratherwood chimed in and jeered me a bit with his elbow. "Remember the food Ol' Bushy used to put away?"

"Aye, that hare would eat the table if you let him!"

"Ol' Bushy, y' say?" Honeydew grimaced. "Bless his poor ears- what a name for a hare!"

"It was a nickname me and my brothers gave him." I mused over the memories for a moment. "Ol' Bushy was the commander of the Mariner Guard. His true name was Sergeant Tacticus Bushfeathers."

Never before had I seen a hare stop eating.

"I say, sirrah. Did you say _Sergeant Tacticus Bushfeathers?"_

"I did. What of it?"

The three hares muttered amongst themselves for a moment and even Martin raised an eyebrow at the trio. "What's all this about, you three?" he asked.

"This Ol' Bushy of yours," Ffring began and waved his paw in the air nonchalantly. "He didn't happen to have a medal of some sort about his uniform did he?"

"Of course he did," I snorted. "He was the commander of the private guard of the Mariner Lord of Carminack."

"All from your dear ol' dad, wot?"

"No, not everyone; he had others from who knows where." I thought for a moment. "There was one he used to hold his sash- a large silver triangle. Plain with the letters-"

"S.S.?"

I just shifted on my seat. How would they know that?

"Ffring?" Martin said with a hint of authority. "Care to enlighten us?"

"I say, this is something spiffing. Not every day you hear of the sergeant from the lost contingent of Stonepaw's Stalwarts!"

"Stonepaw's Stalwarts?" I gaped.

"Yes, sirrah- S.S.," Wother grinned. "It was a group of Salamandanstron hares deployed under the reign of Lord Stonepaw and sent south to aid in a massive battle of some sort. This Sergeant Bushfeathers was their lead hare- youngest hare to lead such an important expedition, wot. Records say the S.S. were the last of Stonepaw's rulings- sent the poor lots to their deaths- never came back, ya see, eh. Erm, or so history thought. Jumpin' radishes, he must be an ancient now!"

"He's no leveret that's for sure!" I laughed. It felt good to have some sort of common handle with these beasts. "The last I saw him was…" My voice trailed off. Ol' Bushy had been an ancient hare when I last walked away from the manor. It tore at my heart a bit that he may have been called to the Dark Forest in my absence.

The warrior was quick to sense my reason for hesitation. "He must have been a brave hare!" he said with a light air to his tone and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I shoved another mouthful of porridge into my mouth to bury yet another emotion.

Some beast called to him and Martin excused himself from us.

"You alright, Lis?" Florgin asked me. "You're awfully quiet."

"My face is just hurting me, laddie," I lied. "I need to rest for a bit, I think."

"I'll show you back to your dormitory," Martin said from behind me. "Sister Meriam tells me your baths are ready; time to scrape some of your travels off."

"Right," I mumbled and went to rise when Columbine came out of the kitchens. 'Gates she was a pretty maid. "I think I'll stay here for a moment or two," I said and sat my tail back down. "She may need a rub down after all her hard work." Martin followed my line of vision and scowled.

"Slow your paws there, Liswano," Martin said coldly. "That's a married maid."

"Minor detail," I snickered. The warrior leaned down on the table and eyed me dangerously. "Major detail," he retorted. "_Major detail."_

"Only to some."

"She's married to my best friend, mate," Martin growled and his hackles started to rise. "I wouldn't suggest even thinking about it."

Something about him told me to back right off. This was a protective mouse if ever there was one!

"Alright, so she's off limits," I scoffed and looked back at a group of chatterboxes in the corner. "That one over there looks up for grabs…"

"That's a novice," Martin countered. "See the habit?" I grunted. "Don't touch," he affirmed.

"Well, what about-"

"No."

"But her-"

"No." It was Florgin that gave me that answer. I stared a whole through the lad's forehead, but he stood his ground. "They aren't like the ones in Southsward, Lis. You can't just use them like… like…" he went silent and blushed a bit before continuing. "Just leave them be."

"Oh, lad- shut it. I don't use them; they bloody well enjoy it as much as I do!"

"Sure they do!" he snipped at me. "But what do they enjoy? Your title, your coin- your handsome face? Well, here you have no title, you have no coin and your face is ripped in two. What do you have to offer them that they might enjoy now?"

I laughed off his insults as soon as they hit keen to the bone. "How would you know, Florgin? One look at a maid's bare shoulder and you get all gushy and weak-kneed!"

"Better to be that than a skirt sniffer," he grumbled out at me and clenched his jaw. "Come on, Flintin. Let's go get a bath before the water gets cold. We can just get in them, Martin?" he asked and looked at the warrior.

"Yes, Florgin. Do you remember the way back?"

"I think so," he shrugged. "We'll find our way."

Slowly, the others started to leave in awkward silence. Even Ratherwood was quiet, but he stood beside me and talked lightly with each of them as they passed. I was still stunned. Florgin had never spoken like that to any beast before, let alone me. The amount of times I'd saved his tail… and his balls from a travelling troupe in eastern Southsward when they heard the lad sing. One pitch of a high note and they all had their knives out wanting to make him a eunuch- guess he forgot the eye teeth I had to punch in to get him out of that mess.

"Hit a sore spot with that youngster, didn't you?" Martin asked me when Ratherwood and I were the last creatures left.

"Might have," I muttered.

"Florgin had the view of the _receiving_ end of that scene for a while," Ratherwood said in a low voice. "His mother was a… she did what she needed to in order to feed him and Flintin."

Martin blinked his acknowledgement. "I see." He walked a step away from us and then turned back. "This group- you're their leaders?" We nodded. "I'd like a word with both of you. Follow me."

* * *

We followed him out of the main building and towards the western ramparts where a huge oaken gate loamed before us. A gatehouse was built into the wall beside it and Martin opened the door to show us inside. It was larger than it looked on the outside with a great hearth centering the main room. Tall windows and tapestries covered the walls while heavy pieces of furniture littered the floor making it a comfortable home with a long oaken feasting table, a sitting area with two pillowed settles and a staircase presumably leading to bedchambers on the second level. The fire was flanked by a kitchen and some sort of curtained chamber, and two large armchairs were positioned in front of the blaze. At the sound of our footpaws, an old mouse popped his head around from his place on the chair.

He smiled and pushed himself to his footpaws. "Ah, young Martin. I hope you don't mind that I showed myself in. I was out for my morning walk and my footpaws were getting weary in all this snow."

"Not at all, Vurg," Martin grinned and gestured for us to take a seat on the lounges. "Please make yourselves comfortable while I change out of these damp clothes." He walked towards the steps leading to the upper level. "Oh, Vurg-" he called over his shoulder. "This is Liswano and Ratherwood. Mates, this is Vurg."

The three of us exchanged a nod and the old mouse leaned in to look at my face.

"That's going to leave a nice scar."

"So I've been told." _A thousand times…_

"You were part of the group that came in yesterday, were ya? Part of that bunch of ragtag fighters?"

"We're not a bunch of ragtag fighters," I corrected him. "We're ex-legionnaires of the Southern Armies."

"Deserters?" He raised an eyebrow and tipped to the side to look at our tails. "Looks like your fast runners, but I suppose they always figure a beast is as good as dead when they trudge into the Ditch."

Ratherwood and I both looked at each other. "Erm, we didn't desert- we were disbanded. The Southern Armies have dissolved."

"Ah," he mused. "Took them long enough…"

"Now, that's better!" Martin called from the upper landing as he adjusted his tunic around his belt before bounding down the steps. "Feels good to be dry again!"

"You're missing something, Martin," Vurg glowered and nodded to the warrior's vacant waist. "Where's your sword?"

"Put away for now," he replied with forced civility. "It's nice to be without it every now and then. Something I have to start getting used to."

The old one's eyes turned to daggers while he sat back down on the lounge opposite us. "You haven't taken vows yet, Martin. You are still a warrior and a champion. Your sword's place is at your side until you make the mistake of your life."

Martin visibly bit his tongue and cleared his throat. "Can I get either of you something to drink? Tea, cordial-"

"How about a bottle of Saint Ninian's Cider!" Gonff announced as he entered with Lady Amber. "I know you've got a stash of it somewhere, matey."

"I have to hide it from you, or else there's never any left when I want some!" Martin chortled. "I'll go get some- you stay here!" he commanded his friend and disappeared into the kitchen behind the hearth.

The mousethief and squirrelqueen gave us a quick nod and descended hard on the aging mouse.

"Well, Vurg- did ya get him straightened out, matey?"

"No," he answered in a whisper. "I thought I'd have him cornered, but he brought these two beasts back with him. Can't very well have a go at him with them here."

"You have to get him to stop this!" Amber hissed. "You're the only one he might listen to; can't he see he's still needed…"

_"Ahem!"_

I didn't need to look to see the look on his face to know he was angry. You could feel the tension in the room increase threefold.

Martin strode back into the main room and placed the tray of beakers and jugs on the low table between the lounges. Shooting his three friends a hard glare, he handed Rath and I a cup and started filling it with drink.

"Saint Ninian's Cider," he said. "Try it- you'll like it."

He didn't lie- the drink was great.

"So, er, this is a nice spot," I muttered in attempt to break the strain in the air. "What are you- a lord?"

"A lord!" Martin laughed and slapped his knee as he sat on a chair to face us. "No, mate. Just a plain mouse."

"Listen to this!" the plump one puffed and took the pipe out of his vest pocket. "Plain mouse… HA! Fancy all the vermin you've slain would have a word or two t' say about that."

"I'm afraid Gonff exaggerates," Martin explained and leaned back in his seat. "I am just a plain mouse who can swing a blade around for a bit. Nothing more."

"Oh, stuff 'n nonsense," Lady Amber replied. "Are you denying you slew the cat?"

"I didn't. The water did."

"You pressed her into it, you survived, she died; therefore, you win."

He didn't look overly impressed. "Whatever I did is done and I'm not interested in hearing about again." He scrunched his nose up and waved off their praise. "What I am interested in is finding out more about our new friends here."

All eyes turned to us.

"There's not much to tell, really," Ratherwood shrugged.

"There has to be something-" Martin said and pointed his paw at my friend. "It's not often that you see an army marching through the Midlands."

"Army?" I scoffed. "We're not even a quarter of a legion!"

"Then where's the rest of you?" he inquired. "The other three-quarters of your legion and whatever other legions that were part of your army."

"Why do you ask?" I challenged. "What does it matter to you?"

"Because I'm Mossflower's Champion," Martin affirmed and I couldn't help but notice the relief that streaked their faces at his declaration. "And if there's going to be more of your lot rummaging about the woods, I'd like to know about it."

"There're just us," Ratherwood offered up. "Our army was disbanded and we decided to head north away from… the chaos."

"And you're searching for peace?"

"We're looking for a new place to settle," I piped in. "We're all looking for a new cause to fight for."

"Redwall Abbey is a place of peace," Martin stated and took a sip of his drink. "You won't find much combat left in Mossflower, I'm afraid."

"Except when you had to shove off a mangy bunch of cannibal weasels," I argued lightly. "It looks like there is still some need for fighting here." A glimmer of fire flashed across his eyes and Martin shook his head to rid his agreement.

Rapping the arm of the chair with his claws, he asked, "So where are you from exactly?"

"Southsward." _He knew that. He called us the Southsward Fighters already in Cavern Hole._

"So Ratherwood told me when we happened on each other," Martin snickered. "But it's a big spot from what I've been told- mind elaborating?"

"Carminack."

Vurg broke out in a coughing fit over his cider.

"Are you alright, Vurg?" Amber questioned him and rubbed his bowed back gently.

"Drink just tickled my throat, is all," he said in a hoarse voice. Looking at me with his watering eyes he choked out, "Where did you say you were from?"

"Carminack, the southern capital of Southsward."

"And your name is Liswano?" Vurg pressed. I nodded. "No doubt some sort of family name?"

I shrugged. "Probably something my drunk-arsed brother slurred out when I was born. At the tenth mouseling, I'm sure my parents were running out of names."

"And your father's name?"

"Lisandro." Vurg took another drink to hide his grin at my answer. "Wonder if he scarred from Luke slicing his paw…" he mumbled out.

Martin leaned forward and gave the old mouse's knee a pat. "What was that, Vurg?"

"Oh nothing, Martin," the old one snorted. "Just dusty mutterings is all."

I wanted to ask how he knew Pop had a scar when my father did anything to hide the mark that crossed the back of his paw and over his wrist, but Vurg obviously didn't want to talk about it. I would have to corner him later somehow.

"How did you get here from Southsward?" Lady Amber took up the questioning. "There's supposed to be a great wasteland separating the South and Midlands."

"There is," Ratherwood smiled. "But we went around it to the east."

"By sea?" Gonff spoke up. "Like by a barge or something?"

"No, a ship," I gruffed out in remembrance. "Captained by a regular ol' pirate- aye, don't ask; it wasn't a grand adventure."

They laughed. "It was no laughing matter- there's no bigger arse-hole than Wayte Tydefell!"

Martin went quiet with my name drop and got a puzzled look on his face. Gonff looked at him with concern.

"Every okay, matey?"

"Ah, yes, Gonff. I just thought I… no," he mumbled and rubbed the furrows out of his forehead. "Nothing. Just… nothing."

There was a lot more to this warrior than his battles or modesty.

"Well, you and your fighters are welcome to stay here until spring," Martin said pointedly to Ratherwood and I. "You've come a long way and I am happy to extend an invitation to you. That is of course, as long as you _behave yourselves."_

"Behave ourselves?" I chuckled.

"No _tail-chasing, swearing in front of young ones or stirring up trouble,"_ Martin retorted sternly. "We have all fought hard for the peace we have here in Mossflower and it is my job as its champion to ensure it stays that way. You all seen to be of brave and moral stock. I'd hate to have to run you out of here or kill you."

"You can try," I snorted and Ratherwood kicked my footpaw. "Why would I change who I am for the comforts of four walls?"

"Perhaps, you wouldn't be changing yourself," Martin said over his shoulder as walked to the door and swung a red cloak over his shoulders. "Perhaps you would just be dropping that guise of yours and showing what your true colours are."

And with that, he left.

* * *

**Alright, so ya, it's a bit info dumpy, but I tried to make it a bit light with some mild humour. And _yes- _There is hints to happenings in _The Red Prince _ and yes, I do like to tie them all together somehow. **

**So we see Lis get a bit of a reality check here and you'll see how he's changed in the next chapter. He is starting to respect Martin a little bit and see's his got a bit of a complicated go of it (Right now Martin is starting to contemplate hanging up his sword). Also, we see Martin's memory loss coming through when he couldn't remember Wayte. The name is familiar to him, but he can't figure it out, so he does what he did even in the canon books when he can't remember- goes off to be by himself.**


	25. Duty, Honour, Bravery- Part 7: Home

**Alright, the moment you've all been waiting for... Part Seven.**

**Special thanks to the reviewers: Saraa Luna, Lady Storm, krikanalo, Thomas the Traveler, Shadowed One 19 and Jade Tealeaf **(Who's just returned to the reviewing board, but makes up for her sporadic disappearances with very lengthy reviews! ;) )**. **

**Disclaimer: There is a point during one of Martin's 'speeches' that I borrowed some direct phrases from _The Legend of Luke_ by Brian Jacques. You'll be able to pick them out no problem. ;)**

* * *

**Duty, Honour, Bravery: Part Seven- Home**

_"__I tried carrying the weight of the world  
But I only have two hands  
I hope I get the chance to travel the world  
But I don't have any plans  
Wish that I could stay forever this young  
Not afraid to close my eyes  
Life's a game made for everyone  
And love is the prize_

_So wake me up when it's all over_  
_When I'm wiser and I'm older_  
_All this time I was finding myself_  
_And I didn't know I was lost."_

- "Wake Me Up" by Avicii –

* * *

"So quiet was the night so dear, that froze my blood and tears," I rhymed amidst the flames and shadows of the Cavern Hole fire, gesturing with my paws and weaving magic with my words to the score of gaping youngsters. "_And never is that never was_, the wind whispered upon my ears…"

Onwards I recited the poem from my youth to the tune of the crackling logs, letting my voice rise and fall with the words and emotions of the tale. Behind the wall of Dibbuns sat mothers and wives, cradling babes and toddlers on their laps, while males conversed lightly and smoked their pipes or sipped brew at the tables pretending not to listen to me. The Brothers and Sisters smirked and chuckled at my story- its spell of battle and bravery lost on their peaceful hearts.

Bella shifted in her chair and tilted her head towards the stairs leading to the Great Hall where the bluing light of the moon trickled its cool tone onto the warm sandstone floor. I took the hint.

"Down crashed the slate! Down crashed the stone! The Wreathguard closed the gate," I cried, jumping to my footpaws and looming over the twenty pairs of eyes. "_And never is that never was_, the sea whispered to the Fates."

I boomed the final lines, my voice echoing up to the vaultings and flickering the torches in their sconces, but still my audience was silent, waiting for more. Some of the older lads were even leaning forward in anticipation of another verse. I relaxed my stance and cast them all a questioning look.

"Well?" Brookley said and fidgeted his paws knees where he was sitting cross-legged in the front row. I turned my attention to the young otter. "What happened to them- to the Wreathguard and all the others? Where did Skipper Destin Stalwallows hide the key and did the vermin make it inside Rainwreath?"

"I don't know there, lad," I smiled at him and let out a bolt of laughter when he clapped his rudder on the floor in frustration. "It's only a story."

"But you said it was a _true story,"_ Timmin argued and bristled his fluffy tail. "Mister Lis- you said it was a real story about real beasts."

"And it is about real beasts," I affirmed. "The Wreathguard is the greatest order for an otter in Southsward and only a few of the noble families still survive. One of my own generals' was a descendent of Skipper Destin himself."

"Did he know what happened to the key?" Gonflet asked, his eyes bright with a sense of adventure. "Did he ever see the Rainwreath treasure?"

"Aw, laddie," I laughed, my scar dimpling across my face as I ruffled his ears. "Rainwreath's been sealed up tight since the Dawning Days. No beast has ever seen that treasure, nor will they in any time to come."

"Why, is the island haunted?" Kailyn said with her claws curled into her mouth, smiling with anticipated fear. "Do the dead otters haunt it?"

Bella's snort all but blew out the fire. "Of all the silly notions. Kailyn- where do you come up with such ideas in that foolish head of yours?"

"Oi doan't loike th' oidea o' ghosters," Diggen's voice trembled and he looked back at his father. "No Oi's doan't."

"It bee a'right, Dig'," Dinny chortled. "Thurr bee no worryin' while Zurr Marthen i' 'ere, no zurr."

"That's right, Diggen," Martin guffawed from his seat by Ratherwood and Skipper. Patting his sword hilt he said. "No ghost would dare haunt Redwall while I'm around."

"But what about when you're gone?" Gonflet spoke up. "We'll still be around-"

"Gonflet," Columbine hushed and my ears pricked at the sound of her voice. I exhaled and resisted the urge to turn immediately to her.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about phantoms, Gonflet." I bent down and picked up the mouselet to hold him in front of me. "The laddie-buck's not going to let something as silly as a ghost ruin the peace of Redwall. Dead or not, Martin'll always make sure it will be safe."

The youngster grinned and nodded at me before I set him down to go to his mother. All the other Dibbuns started dispersing to their parents or flocked to Bella who was rounding them up to take them to their dormitory; each of them calling thanks to me for the story and talking busily amongst themselves without a care in the world. Columbine was just saying her goodnights to the others when Gonflet turned back to me.

"'Ey, Lis?" I tipped my head in acknowledgement. "Why do you always call Uncle Martin a laddie-buck?"

"Because he is!" I chuckled. "He's unpredictable and fierce. Never know what he's doing and he'll surprise you at every turn." I winked at Martin who laughed and shook his head at me.

"Get yourself a mug of ale," he scoffed and shoved a tankard towards me. "At least if you're drinking, I can blame your fool-hardy expressions on the brew." I slipped my paw through the handle and gripped the cup.

"A laddie-buck," Gonflet pondered and scratched his chin. "So what do they call you?"

"Alright, Gonflet, that's enough now," Columbine tried to quiet him down, but with that lad it was as futile as Skipper away from Hot Root Soup.

"-Because Timmin and I heard Kipper tell Treester that you were some sort of _tail-chaser_. Is that the same thing?"

Ale rushed into my unexpecting lungs and I gagged into my mug, hacking and choking on the golden brew. I dropped the tankard on the table, hammering a fisted paw on my chest to relieve the suffocating feeling crippling my being while Ratherwood gave me a good swat between the shoulder blades. I coughed and wheezed for a few more moments to get my lungs puffing properly again before giving the young mouse a disbelieving look.

"Gonflet!" Columbine reprimanded him and rolled her eyes at her husband like it was his fault their son had no sort of filter. Gonff shrugged which made her smile while I just grit my teeth and pretended that smile was for me. I knew it wasn't; not in the slightest. Columbine had eyes for Gonff and no other- I knew that. Did it stop me from thinking she'd be a good roll in the wheat grass? No. Not for a moment, but I never so much as brushed shoulders with the lass. Why? As much as I hated to admit it, I liked that ruddy thief of hers. Jolly sort and always up for a laugh- always hanging about Martin in some way or another and in short time, so were Rath and I. I suppose you could say the four of us had become friends. All in all, out of respect for Gonff, and every beast in Redwall, I keep my urges painfully in check. Oh, and to all males rest assured- after they turn blue and double in size from build-up, the berries do go back down to normal; though I tell every beast they're nothing but a pair of dried damsons, just to get a laugh. Ah, but where was I…

"I, uh, no Gonflet," I stuttered out and cleared my throat. "That was a long time ago, lad."

"What is a tail-chaser anyway?" Timmin popped out of nowhere to ask that question. "Is it like playing tag?"

"Well…" I tried to think of a quick lie, but I couldn't with beasts snorting smothered laughter behind their paws and Skipper had to drop his forehead into his arms on the table to hide his amusement.

"Or maybe it's like hide and seek!" Gonflet giggled, a guileless smirk on his face. Rath, Martin, Gonff and Skipper whooped into laughter and I joined them. I wasn't going to touch a response to that one with a Long Patrol pike. Ruddy mouselet hit it square on the head. Seasons help Gonff when that mouse got older and realized his gonads!

"What are ye all laughing 'bout?" Gowren asked as he approached with a mousemaid curled around his arm. "What did we miss?"

"Oh, nothing you need to be worried about!" Ratherwood grinned and nodded to the maid's bulging belly. "Something you figured out over the winter!"

The ex-surgeon smiled and placed a paw over the swell. "Oh, suppose I did."

I guess you need some filling in. After us fighters accepted Martin's offer to stay at Redwall, all of us begun to slip into what you would call abbey life. We helped with chores and sentry duties; we went on patrols around Mossflower and lent a paw whenever we could. It was the least we could do after all. They were feeding us and housing us, giving us clothes. Some of us even began to… what did they call it up here in the Midlands… 'court' a maid or two. Eventually a pawful of them took the plunge (despite me trying to beat some sense into them) and got married. Ah, poor beasts. Well, regardless, those happened at the beginning of winter, and now that it was coming on spring more than the season was rounding around Redwall Abbey. What can I say- us Southers breed fast! It must be all the sunshine and warmth in our veins that makes things rise up quick-like despite the frigid weather.

"Well, I'd better get Aster back home," Gowren said softly as they made their way out towards the family apartments of the Abbey. "G'night."

"Night, Gowren," we chimed and waved off the departing beasts.

"I suppose we should relieve those poor beasts on the wall," Martin stood up and stretched his paws to the ceiling before motioning to Ratherwood and I. "I'm sure they want to get out of the damp and beside the fires."

* * *

At least the night was warm…ish- much like a typical winter night in Southsward actually; damp, hazy and moisture that spotted your cheeks and curled your whiskers. Like true Southers, Rath and I stayed in our new red cloaks while we walked the walls, watching the world around us sleep under the large white moon. Martin on the other paw, that bloody northerner was cloakless, his jerkin undone and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. I swear only his belt and pride kept him from stripping down to his fur, and a good thing it was too. I didn't need to see those scars on his back again. Once was enough for me when Jalen had gotten injured during a training exercise and Martin took his shirt off to make a bandage. Gonff said they were from the cat, but I still couldn't grasp the fact a living beast could do that to another- vermin or not. And I had seen a lot from that fiking army. Vermin killed yes, plain and simple, but those scars looked like torture. Slow kills. Madbeasts did that- picked a creature apart bit by bit. How Martin kept fighting, let alone survived such injuries was beyond me. That's when I started calling him a laddie-buck; because you never know what he was capable of doing, now or in the future to come.

"Do you miss it?" he asked me and leaned over the ramparts of the south wall. "Do you miss Southsward?"

"Yes and no." My answer was as black and white as the truth of it. "Some beasts yes, others no. Some places maybe, but there are others to be seen." I hadn't meant to sound all deep and such like Ratherwood, but I guess I had moments of notable thought.

"But it was your home," he pointed out. "Southsward was your home."

"I have no home," I replied. "I'm just a wanderer."

"You had a home, Lis!" Ratherwood laughed and gave me a shove. "Don't listen to him, Martin. You should have seen his home! The Mariner's Manor was the largest building in Carminack and they said it rivalled even the Great Southern Palace of Constillion in wealth and fineries."

They bantered a bit. "And when did I ever call it _home?"_ I questioned my closest friend. "I always called it _the manor_, never _home."_

"Well, maybe, but-"

"You had a home there Ratherwood, not me," I continued and walked a little ways down the battlements to be alone. I hadn't meant to snap at him, but since coming to Redwall my emotional lockbox had sprung open and I couldn't get the lid back on it.

I looked back to the south. Somewhere down past all the trees and water and wasteland, my one-time family would be sleeping soundly in their beds. My little nieces would have been read their stories. Leif would have tucked himself in and my brothers and sisters would be dreaming without a care. It stung me a bit to think my father never sent a search party out to find me when I didn't return home or show up at my post in Constillion. I knew my mother wouldn't have given a wit, but I always thought my father cared for me at least. He may have always been busy, but Pop did try and make time for me when he could. Maybe I had just hoped he cared and in actuality, he didn't give a fike. Or maybe he did more than I knew and that's why he let me slip away from the life he knew I hated…

I was so deep in thought I didn't hear Martin approach me again. "You're quiet, Lis," he said and then winked. "You're never quiet unless you're eating something."

_I am,_ I thought. _They're called memories and emotions. _It was just too bad they didn't exit the same way real food did, then I could be rid of them for good.

He slumped back against the parapet and rested his elbows on the stone to look at me in the eye, searching for something the 'gates his blue eyes were going to find. After a few moments, Martin sighed and turned his gaze back into the abbey buildings.

"You know, I was a wanderer once too," he started. "I didn't have a home. Not a real one anyways, until I came to Mossflower and even then it wasn't until we started building Redwall that I felt I had a home."

"It's got four pretty walls," I said in reply.

"Walls?" he chortled. "I suppose it has that." Pushing himself off the wall he walked to the edge of the landing and looked about the sandstone masterpiece. "But I was referring to the home you feel, not see."

"Oh, now laddie-buck, save the high-talk for Ratherwood," I prattled and smirked back at the ol' Worrywood. Martin ignored me. "I'm more into visuals," I relented and gestured to the different aspects of the abbey. "Four walls. Doors. Windows. Food. Comfy Bed. Home."

"Perhaps," Martin mused. "I didn't always have those, so I guess I'm more inclined to the feeling kind of home."

"And what's that?" I jested and gave his shoulder a little shove. "You finally going to tell us about those random dreams you have that gets you all worked up, because I'd be willing to bet you _felt home_ with that beast called _darling_ you mutter about in your sleep."

Martin cleared his throat and even in the darkness I saw him flush across his cheeks. Looking down at his empty paws he said, "Home is where your family is."

Ratherwood came up beside me and we both watched Martin's expression change. In the short time we had known him, Martin didn't open up much to other beasts. Most chalked it up to his memory loss and maybe some of it was, but I could tell he was hiding things. The same way I hid things; buried deep down in our guts.

"You know, I have no blood relations anymore," he started. "What little of them I had I can barely remember. I never thought about making a family for myself because I was always protecting the lives of others; and now that I have the time for one, I-" he paused and shook his head. "That part of me has passed. So, now I stand here in this world alone, no kin of mine to take my sword. No wife, no son or daughter of my own; it's a bitter and a sad reward for dedicating your life to the survival of others, but I still feel as though I have a family. And my home is not walls, or doors, or windows. My family is my home. As long my friends are with me, I have a family and so I have a home." He turned to me and said, "That's why I stopped my wandering. It wasn't because we built a building; it is because we built a family. We built a home. And after seasons of never having one, I swore not even death was ever going to take me from my home."

I was dying to make some sort of smart-arsed response, a jeer, a jest, a wise-crack- _anything_ at the deep speech he just gave, but I held back. It was obviously important for him to say or else he wouldn't have said it. Martin was just that type of beast. Apart from the odd carefree banter or training instructions he sometimes dealt out, his speech was like his sword; sheathed unless absolutely necessary.

The three of us stood in silence and I shifted on my footpaws. Damn hoppy ale making my insides all fizzy. I was really going to have to talk to Ben about using less of the buds. Florgin always talked about brewers down south using burdock root or dandelion for flavour down there, so maybe I could get the hog onto that form of the drink. Didn't help me much at this particular time though and no matter how much I clutched my arse cheeks together, it was going to come out, slow and deadly. At least they were down wind of me; or so I thought.

It was Ratherwood who smelt it first. At first he just wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Then he blinked, once, twice-

"What is that-" Martin asked, looking around with an expression of awe and disgust on his face. "Great Seasons- what is that smell?"

"Fates' Fire," Ratherwood cursed and gagged. "What- wait… Lis, can't you smell that?"

"Smell what?" I said innocently, and then pointed to the sky. "Ah, look- the north star."

"Why the 'gates are my eyes watering?" Martin exclaimed and rubbed the back of his paw over his nose. "Oh my Seasons, where is it coming from?"

My damned bum betrayed me and it let out a squeaker. Immediately, they sprang away from me.

"I should have known!" Ratherwood coughed while Martin backed away gagging. "I should have known that stink anywhere!"

I let out a little chuckle. "What?"

"That was _you?"_ Martin laughed in between dry heaves. "For the love of the Seasons even Gonff doesn't smell that bad! And he _tries!"_

"Well, I have a talent…"

"Yeah, the secret weapon of the Southern Armies!" Ratherwood cried and wrapped his cloak over his nose. "Point your tail in a different direction would ya?"

"By the Fates' Lis- what do you feed that thing?" Martin gasped out.

"Thing?"

"Your demon of an arse!" he sniggered and waved the perfumed air back towards me while walking towards the west wall. "Ah, Hellsgates, my eyes are burning!"

"Wait up Martin," Rath called. "You're not leaving me alone with that!"

"A right pair of player maids you are!" I called after them. "It's just a normal bodily function. Everybeast farts!" They laughed and continued to stride away from me. "It's not like either of you smell like roses!"

Sighing, I looked back off to the south and leaned between the parapet stones. Somewhere down there was Southsward. Somewhere down there was my kin. Somewhere down there I was cold, while up here I was warm. My stomach rumbled and another puff of homemade incents graced the air.

"Oh my fike." I choked myself and took off running towards fresher air. I guess that's what my body thought of all that philosophical hoopla- it was all a load of tripe.

* * *

I take it back. Spring in the Midlands wasn't like Southswardian winters. It was _exactly _like them- right down to the fortnight of solid rain. But in Southsward we were accustom to such weather and prepared for it. Here, these woodlanders said they had never seen so much rain all at once before and were scrambling worse than a tailless snake.

Skipper evacuated Camp Willow when River Moss broke its banks and brought the otters to the abbey, as did almost every creature in Mossflower. Redwall was crowded and jammed packed; beasts were running to and fro with errands and the kitchens were constantly busy making food to feed all of us.

Outdoors was even busier. Skipper and his crew went to work filling sandbags to plug up some ruddy hole in the bottom of the Abbey Pond; something about a flood hole or some such ridiculous thing. I didn't really pay much attention to it- I was too busy outside the walls trying to get the water to stop trying to flow inside the grounds.

"You have to bank up the dirt along the walls, Dinny," I argued with him and slapped the head of my shovel in the mud. "So the water flows away from the stones. And you're ditches aren't deep enough on the other side of the road."

"Th'y bee deep'r 'n Miz Goody's pioez, Zurr Liz," the mole argued with me. "Oi's a-greein' wid you'm 'bout th' walls tho'." Turning to the other moles of his company, Dinny called, "You'm 'eard Zurr Lis- git diggen th' dirt up 'round those'm walls! Nioce 'n 'iogh now!"

"Water's just going to keep rising the walls," I grumbled and looked over my shoulder at Amber and Ratherwood standing with a score of beasts with shovels and pickaxes. "The water needs somewhere to go and these ditches aren't deep enough along the road to move it fast."

"They worked well enough to drain Kotir," Amber said gruffly. "Let Dinny work- he knows what he's doing."

"Aye, it worked, but how long did it take to drain the ruddy castle? A month?"

"Don't mock me mouse."

"I don't have time to mock you," Lis snapped back. "We've got to get the water away from those walls before the mortar loosens and those stones start to shift."

"Where is Martin?" the squirrel huffed. "He and Gonff should have been back from Saint Ninian's by now."

"Does he need to hold your paw?"

"You two would argue over the proper way to take a breath," Ratherwood snipped and rolled his eyes. "Dinny's right. The ditches are deep enough, but the water's not moving- something's blocking the flow further down the dike."

"Maybe the sides fell in down by the meadow," Florgin put in. "It narrows there and the ground full of clay- wouldn't take much but a few clumps to bun it up."

"Right, well let's go remove the plug then!" I commanded and set off down the muddy road to the south with my fighters at my heels. I heard Amber whistle for her squirrels to follow and soon we she was matching my stride for the lead. Each of us quickened our pace in intervals and so continued our silent competition.

* * *

Halfway to the meadow and I could tell Florgin was right. Unfortunately for the entire woods, so did he and we all had to listen to him crow about being a smart-beast. The water stilled in the ditch and swirled out onto the road and grasslands, threatening to make the land a lake again. Amber looked uneasy about the water, muttering things about the sack of Kotir and how the water kept rising and rising until finally the cat came out and Martin followed her. I don't know who was worse; Florgin gloating or Amber worrying. At least the rain pounding on my cloak hood muffled the noise a bit.

Finally, we came to the source of the mess where the ditch was dammed up high from something. The muddy waters made it impossible to see the cause, but whatever was the reason for the block, it was large and only a shallow flow of water could escape over the top of it. In front of us part of the road was washed away and a deep crevice cracked across the path. On the other side, Ferdy and Coggs stood with a wagon full of helpless woodlanders bound for the abbey's protection and Martin at the edge of the forest up to his knees in water trying to hack down a tree with his sword. Seeing us approaching, Gonff broke away from the crew and trotted over to us.

"We were wondering when you'd show up, mateys!" the thief yelled through the deluge. "We be right stuck."

"Hadn't notice!" I shouted back. "Thought you might have just stopped for tea."

"Who have you got there, Gonff?" Amber inquired. "Those don't look like blankets and extra supplies."

"Nope- the field mice from the hollow," he called. "We went to go make sure Timbal's little Avery was faring alright in this muck and tis good thing we did- this lot was all but hanging from t' trees; sitting on the roofs of their homes, they were!"

"What's Martin doing?"

"What does it look like, Am?" Gonff laughed. "Cutting down a tree to make some planks so we can cross!"

A pawful of beasts broke from our group and splashed over to aid the warrior.

"This is ridiculous," I huffed. "We need to get that ditch unplugged before it causes more havoc."

Ratherwood and I trudged over to the water's ill-defined edge and carefully padded our way across to Gonff. Twice I slipped and Ratherwood stumbled onto his knees, but I was able to haul him back up before the swift current swept him down the flow.

"Ferdy, throw me that rope!" I ordered and the hog tossed the coiled hemp over to me. Pulling it through my paws, I knotted the line every arm length before lobbing the end over to Barklad. "Hold the line fast while the others cross, Barky! When every beast is clear, tie it around your waist and we'll help you over."

I waited for his nod and watched the first few creatures start across before handed the rope over to the burly hogs. Ratherwood was already at the site of the blockage, prodding the water with the handle of his shovel.

"Did you find what's blocking it?" I asked as I came up beside him. "Is it rocks?"

"Doesn't quite feel like it," he mused. "But it's too hard for just dirt…"

"A soaked log or something?"

"Maybe, but it's not straight." He turned and looked at me, lowering his voice. "Lis, it feels like a body."

"A body?" I scoffed. "To dam up this dike? Ratherwood, it would have to be a fat ol' family of hogs to make this block."

"Or just one big one," he mumbled under his breath and looked over at the cart full of young ones. "Lis, they can't see whatever we pull out of the water."

"Let's figure out what it is first," I said logically. "If it was a deadbeast, do you not think Redwall would be looking for it by now?"

"They can't keep track of every creature."

"Use the hatchets from the cart to split the log!" Martin bellowed behind us and I heard him traipse over towards us. "What did you two find?" he questioned, his voice hoarse from exertion. I flipped my shovel upside down and held it out to him.

"Have a feel and see what you think."

Wordlessly, the warrior sheathed his sword and took the tool from my paw to punt the swirling water. Instantly his already stern expression hardened and his eyes narrowed while he jabbed down with the handle.

"Great Seasons, that's a beast down there," he whispered and he flung the shovel onto the ground and started to undo his cloak and belt. "We've got to get it out."

"Easy laddie-buck," I said and moved between him and the ditch. "You've got a cart full of youngsters and maids over there. Whatever beast is down there is long dead so a little longer isn't going to – _whoa!"_

_Splash!_

Some of the edge gave way and I slipped on the muck, falling backwards into the water. Martin tried to grab my cloak, but it soaked fabric slide through his paws.

"Lis!" Ratherwood shouted when I came up for air. "Lis, are you alright?"

I sputtered and spat out a mouthful of disgusting water and felt sand gritting between my teeth.

"Aye," I coughed while I tried to find a foothold. Dinny was right, the ditches were deep. "Nothing like having a bath with dirt, rotten leaves and… _OUCH!"_ I howled and snapped back in the water, grasping at my footpaw. Clouds of blood started to colour the water around me and I groaned at the sting. "Ah, fike! Son of a… pink fluffy cloud with sugared damsons and cream…" I managed to correct myself and shivered at the burning feeling searing my foot.

"What did you cut yourself on now?" Ratherwood laughed. "A rock?"

"There are no rocks in this part of the ditch," Martin said coldly. "It's all clay. Lis, get out of there," he commanded and bent down on a knee to outstretch his paw. "Now."

He didn't have to tell me twice and I swam over to the trench edge to grab his arm. Gonff came over to help them and as soon as I was out of the water, Martin yanked up my footpaw to inspect the cut. Twice he narrowed his eyes and widened them again in study all the while his breath getting deeper and his grip on my ankle strong.

"Ah, laddie-buck, giving me back my-"

"Get out of here," he said coldly. "Get all of them out of here. Now. Leave. Get out of here!" he voice escalated into a roar like that of a badger.

"Martin, it's just a cut…"

"That's not just a cut," he said dangerously and pushed himself upright. Every muscle on the mouse was rigid and quivering with… something. "That is not an ordinary cut," he reiterated. "It burns like fire and darts pain into your chest. That is not an ordinary cut from an ordinary beast."

Gonff glanced down at the wound and his eyes even went round as saucers. "Well, I'll be scuttled. You found the wench."

I've never heard the mouse swear before or since.

"Get him on the cart and back to Germaine, Gonff," Martin directed, clenching and unclenching his paws into fists. "Get all of them out of here."

"Martin, calm down, matey," the thief said softly. "Just take deep breaths- you can stop it. There's no battle, she's dead. We just finally found her, that's all…"

I was stunned. I've never seen a beast look so furious and powerful in such a still state before; I've never been afraid of a beast, but looking at Martin then as he struggled to hold onto whatever control he had over whatever was trying to dominate him, I felt fear.

The warrior snarled at us and whipped around, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with his paws. I felt Ratherwood hook his arm around my torso and haul me up to my footpaws.

"Gonff, what is this cut from," he demanded as the thief slipped under my arm for support. Gonff's eyes never left Martin's shaking back.

"That's a claw cut," he said plainly. "From a… it looks just like the ones… she's down there. After all these Seasons, how did is she still down there? How did we not find her until now…" the last sentences he muttered almost to himself."

"Who's her?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

"Tsarmina."

"Get them out of here, Gonff!" Martin roared from his solitary stance. "Ferdy, Coggs- get that cart moving! Just get out of here- all of you- _move!"_

"Gonff, what's gotten into him?" Amber snipped. "Martin, what is the matter?"

"Ah, Amber, d'ya mind overseeing the rescue mission from here on in?" Gonff said quickly. "As you can see Martin and I weren't very good at it, seeing as we got stuck and all…"

I watched Martin shift back and forth on his footpaws, his paws kneading at his eyes. He looked like he was in pain.

"Laddie-buck?" I said when I heard the cart start to wheel away. "Martin."

A pair of red eyes darted at me from over his shoulder. A chill ran down my spine.

"What in the Fates-" Rath breathed and we both took a step back. What was wrong with our friend's eyes?

"Easy, matey." Gonff jumped his way in between us. "Just relax, Martin. C'mon mate- you can stop being that… it's not you…"

"Is he mad?" I gaped.

"No!" Gonff snapped. "He's not mad- he's… he's… Martin has bloodwrath."

"Bloodwrath?" I questioned. I'd heard it once before, but I couldn't think of where. The warrior started to pace, eyeing us up and down, the water, the retreating cart, back to us, to the water… all the while busying his paws so as to not grab his sword hilt.

"Only Badger Lords are said to have bloodwrath," Ratherwood interjected. "Martin's a mouse."

"Brilliant beast you are," Gonff snickered. "'O course Martin is a mouse, but he's got bloodwrath." I took my eyes off the warrior and focused on the mousethief.

"How?" I asked remembering childhood stories of berserking stripedogs with unrivalled strength and killing ability.

"I don't know how, but he's got it- wait, where did he go- Martin? Martin!"

The three of us gaped about, looking for our ailing friend. Moments passed like hours until there was a large gasp from the water and we watched Martin pop his head out above the surface for air and then dive back down again.

"Sticks and fluff!" Gonff spat and sprinted to the edge. When the warrior came up again, he asked, "Martin, me-matey, what are y' doing?"

"Get back, Gonff," he growled. "I told you all to leave. Get out of here, now."

"Now, matey…"

Back under the water he went before any of us could get another word in edgewise. The water bubbled and swirled its currents, and with a great whoosh, the barricade was broken and the ditch flowed freely past its hold. Quickly the overflow receded back down into the ditch and filtered down along its banks. But there was no sign of Martin, or the assumed body. It was like the ruddy river swallowed them up whole.

"Martin!" Ratherwood called and leaned over the edge. "Seasons- Mar-tin!"

"He must have gotten washed down the dike," Gonff garbled out. "He must have-"

"There he is lads!" I shouted and pointed down the road where Martin was crawling out of the water. We watched as he reached back down and began heaving away at something. "What is he trying to do?"

"C'mon, mateys!" Gonff yelled and we ran down the path to help our friend.

* * *

She was a large cat. It took all four of us to pull her from the water, but somehow we managed it. We would never have been able to move the body fresh; oh no, she was much too large for that, but all that was left of her now was bones and a rotten corpse. Skin and tufts of mouldy fur hung from her structure and her eyeless sockets stared at us as we looked at her. She still had fangs in her jaw, but her mouth was skewed into some sort of petrified expression, and her claws were long and curled about her putrid paws. She was missing half of her right claw- the claw Martin had cut off during their battle.

"She must have been buried under the mud when we drained the lake," Gonff guessed while we stood in awe. "Skipper and Dinny looked for her when we dug the drainage lines, but we never found her. The rains must have washed away whatever muck she was trapped under."

Martin just nodded. His eyes were calmer now, the bright red diminished to a rosy pink hue. He was still breathing funny, but hey, we all were; we just dragged a wildcat corpse from the water. I just kept looking at the beast's long body and held in my shudder. All the stories about him were really true. Martin faced down this monster and drove her to her death. Like I said before, I was more into visuals. The tales held no store with me while I couldn't view the conquest myself. But now I was. I could see the decaying vermin and the legend that stood beside me, and I knew then he was really a hero, as simple sounded.

"What should we do with it?" I asked. "We can't just leave a fiking wildcat lying around out here."

"I don't know," Martin stammered. "I didn't ever think I would see her again much less have to deal with her…"

"I'll go get the shovels," Ratherwood said softly and went to turn away.

"She's not worth the dirt to bury her," Martin said, his voice dripping with contempt. "I'm not wasting my time to give her a burial. She took enough things from me that I will never get back and I'll be damned if I waste any more memories on her."

"So what then?" Gonff pressed. "Toss her back in the water and hope she floats away?"

"Burn it."

"What?" he blinked. "You think a soaked corpse will burn in a rain storm, matey?"

"She'll burn," Martin affirmed. "Strike a flint, Gonff."

"Well, let's get to it," I gruffed out. "I want to get out of this rain."

"It's going to take a little bit, Lis," Martin sighed as Gonff was trying to get a spark to light a tinder. "You and Ratherwood can go- Gonff and I can stay and look after this."

"Nope, we're staying with you two," Ratherwood said firmly. "We'll help you see it to the end."

"That's right, laddie-buck," I smiled. "Now, help us get some wood to torch her up fast. I want to go home."

Home to roaring fire and a hot bath. Home to food and tea and ale. Home to strong red walls and stained glass windows. Home to laughter and warm hearted feelings. Home with my friends. Home to Redwall Abbey.

* * *

**Alright so that's it for Lis. His story has been told. I hope you all enjoyed it. :)**

**I should be posting the next chapter in a couple of days- the super secret POV I've promised you guys. I'm interested in what readers reactions to it might be. In a matter of days, I guess I will see. **

**Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW and don't forget to vote on the poll found in my profile which POV you liked best: Ratherwood, Florgin, Martin or Lis.**

**Oh, _and_ as a bonus, I've decided to let you in on a few secrets... namely some of my inspirations for these characters. I'll have that little tidbit revealed at the end of the next chapter. ;)**


	26. Bonus Chapter- The Secrets We Keep

**Alright, here it is- the bonus chapter you've all been waiting for. Not too many guesses on whose POV it would be, but it seems Rose was thought to be the next and final narrator. Sorry to tell ya, but she's not. She was in the running. Actually, Rose, Lily and Lady Amber had chapters outlined for this tale, but I decided against them as they would more or less just reiterate things already written about. And this narrator, well, her story leads very well into _The Red Prince, _which now that I'm done this collection, I can focus on.**

**So, special thanks to Lady Storm, Shadowed One 19, Thomas the Traveler, Saraa Luna and krikanalo for the reviews of the last chapter. :)**

**Disclaimer: Again, I borrowed some lines from Brian Jacques' _The Legend of Luke_. You'll be able to pick them out easily enough.**

* * *

**The Secrets We Keep**

_"__The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one."_  
- Margaret Atwood, _The Blind Assassin -_

* * *

"_In the stones of that spring valley,  
In the sands and in the green.  
The trees grew strong in alleys,  
And grasses tall and keen.  
And the river flowed and bubbled,  
As it saw its waters home.  
Down to the abbey hedged  
And banked with loam…"_

"Mother Abbess?"

I paused over the book on the floor stand and tilted my head sideways towards my understudy. Sister Meriam was seated at the large council table in the common room of my Abbess Chambers with a quill posed over the parchment she was scribbing on. Seeing she had my attention, the mousemaid smiled and asked in a clear voice, "What is that song you are singing?"

I hadn't thought I'd been singing aloud. I knew I had been humming, but when I broke into verse I was not certain. Still, she had heard me sing the light tune and there was no need to cover up its origins.

"Why, it's a song of Loamhedge, my child," I said plainly and turned my gaze back to the tome, adjusting my spectacles on my nose and trailing my index claw along the text. "I'm surprised you did not recognize it."

"It has been a long time since we were at Loamhedge," she stated and continued with her own work. "I had almost forgotten there was such a ditty about our poor forsaken abbey."

"Now, Meriam there are things abandoned or cast aside by time," I smiled. "But as long as we remember it, the object is never forsaken, but preserved until the moment is right."

"Yes, Mother Abbess," she nodded and we both saw to our work of recording and translating. The large fire crackled between the foreroom and my private chambers, warming the air and perfuming the area with scents of cedar and mulled wine. Soft autumn sunlight dribbled through the high windows and I looked up at the gentle knock on my door. It was strange how my old hearing could be so muffled to some sounds and yet sharp as a wit to others.

I closed the volume and walked it back over to the bookcase at the wall. "Come in," I called and ran my paw over the leather bindings with a grin on my face. Redwall's archive collection had begun and I dreamed one day it would be as large and as rich as Loamhedge's library.

The door latch clicked and a young novice entered carrying a tray of pastries and jam.

"Your tea time, Mother Abbess," she said and started laying out the nourishment. Sister Meriam pulled her scroll to the side and began helping the mousemaid remove the plates and teapot from the salver.

"Yes, it is time for that- thank-you, Caradey." She looked up and gave me a nod of her head in respect. "My pleasure, Abbess Germaine."

She waited until I was seated back at the table opposite Meriam. "Is there anything else I can get you, Mother Abbess? Sister Meriam?"

"Not at present child," I replied and observed her for a moment. "Have you been reciting your charter, Caradey? I scarce know how you are preparing for you induction into the order when all you have done is prattle about the kitchens with Columbine this past season."

"I-I have read them," she blushed and fidgeted her footpaw slightly. "I just, well, I was wondering if I may wait until the spring convocation."

"But you are ready to join the order this autumn with the rest of the novices," Sister Meriam interjected. "You should be joining the order with your peers-" I held up my paw to silence her.

"Now, Sister Meriam, this is no reason to become excitable," I proclaimed in an even tone. "Caradey- is there some reason you do not wish to become a Sister of Redwall?"

"I just," she stumbled over the two syllables and squeezed her palms together. "I just don't feel as though I'm ready."

"Ready?" Meriam exclaimed. "Caradey, you-" Again I had to hold my paw aloft.

"Let her finish," I said sternly. "Please continue, child."

Caradey bit her lip anxiously and wrung her paws with such force the skin under her fur turned white beneath her grasp. "I just- It's simply that… Oh, I just need more time!"

"More time?" I chuckled and watched her flush. _If only we all had more time._

"Caradey, you can cook and make preserves just as well in a habit and wimple as you can with a frock and apron," Meriam huffed and took it upon herself to pour both of us tea. "I'm sure Columbine and Goody will be happy for your continued assistance."

She wobbled her head in a sort of agreement, but I could tell it was more a half-hearted response. I chuckled and hooked my claw through the handle of my teacup.

"Who is he, Caradey?" I said without any sort of inflection and took a sip of the warm camomile beverage. Meriam snapped her head around to look at me and the novice flushed redder than our abbey's walls.

"N-n-no beast," she stammered and averted her eyes from my gaze. "At least I… oh, I just don't know!"

"You have been preparing for a life of peacehood," Meriam stressed and rapped the table with her paw. "Caradey, you have known for seasons now of this impending day and this is how you repay our kindness, our instruction?"

"I meant no disrespect, Sister Meriam," she sighed. "I didn't imagine I would ever feel this way about a mouse."

"And does this mouse feel the same way about you?" I pressed. Plucking out a buttermilk scone, I halved it with my knife and began spreading it with blueberry preserve.

"I-I do not know, Mother Abbess."

"Have you talked to him about your feelings?"

"No."

"Then do you not think you should?" I smirked. "Matters of the heart are never better left unsaid."

"I can't," she whispered. "He's… he's not here."

"He lives outside Redwall?"

"No," she relented and finally lifted her eyes to mine. "He's… he's… Martin has not returned yet from the north.

"That's why I have to wait, you see-" she blurted out at my silence and Meriam's gasp. "- I have to wait until he returns to talk to him and I don't know when that might be."

"M-Mar…" Meriam stuttered and then threw me an exasperated look. "Mother Abbess, talk some sense into her."

"Ah, that's just it, Sister Meriam," I exhaled. "The heart does not make sense. If it did we'd call it the lower brain.

"Now, Caradey," I began. "You have feelings for our Abbey Warrior. These feelings are stronger than the bounds of friendship?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"And you see yourself forsaking your vows and becoming his wife? Keeping a home for him and raising any children the two of you may have?"

"Marriage and ch-children!" Meriam gaped. I shook my head at her idiocy. If Martin was to marry of course he would want to further his line of warriors.

"Yes," was the maid's response.

"You are a _novice,"_ Meriam impressed firmly.

"And so was Columbine!" Caradey shot back and I leaned back in my chair to assess the maiden's spirit. "She was a novice in the Loamhedge order and Abbess Germaine's pick as a successor ahead of _you, _Sister Meriam. Columbine met Gonff and opted out of her vows for marriage and no beast seems to have shunned her decision."

"Enough, please," I said calmly and tilted forward once again. "Caradey, you speak the truth about Columbine, but you need not throw facts in Sister Meriam's face. Sister Meriam- Caradey has not yet taken the vows to become a Sister of Redwall and until then, has command of her life. We must respect her wishes."

My future successor huffed and puffed in her seat, her feathers thoroughly ruffled from being dressed down, but she surprisingly held her tongue. I smirked at her. Meriam had more reserve than I… or at least when I was in the middle of a similar situation.

"Thank-you, Mother Abbess." Caradey's voice pulled me back from straying into my memories.

"Do not thank me," I responded. "You have a difficult task ahead of you. Martin has not shown much interest in taking a wife."

"I am aware of that," she said wistfully. "I am hoping once he is back from finding his father, he may be enough at peace with himself to focus on his… I mean, I must know his feelings before I can faithfully take my vows of the Order."

"Columbine has been filling your head with mousetales." Meriam's voice was soft, almost empathetic. "It is no secret she and Gonff wish for Martin to be married and live the _happy_ life they enjoy; she is simply pushing you as a player moves a pawn around a board."

This conversation was leading nowhere. "Caradey," I announced. "You may choose to forego the ceremonies this fall, but you must think seriously on both matters and chose the one best suited to your heart. You have our silence here of your feelings for Martin, but I must impress on you to not get your hopes up. As much as all of us would love to see the warrior settled down, no maid has been able to catch his interest yet. His heart may be filled with too much bravery and courage to hold love as well."

"I know," she breathed and squared her shoulders. "Is there anything I may do for you Mother Abbess, or may I return to the kitchens?"

"No, no, Caradey- that will be all for today." And with a quick curtsy she slipped her way out of the apartment.

"Of all the silly notions," Meriam guffawed and tasted a cheddar biscuit. "Falling in love with Martin the Warrior! Just proves she is still a silly maid- not fitting for our order at all."

I took another drink of my tea and stared at the closed door. "And yet you were quite eager to pressure her into our mantle." I shifted in my chair and pushed my old body up with the armrests. "Perhaps we need to work on your judge of character, Meriam."

She frowned. "I was only trying to highlight she is wasting time on foolishness. If Martin was going to marry, he would have done so by now. Caradey is just day-dreaming."

"Oh yes," I scoffed. "I am quite sure she is the only maid to have ever developed feelings for a handsome warrior. Let her dream- she is still young."

I picked up a scroll from the Brockhall collection and tapped it to my lips in thought. _Ah, to be young again._

"Well, the sooner Martin returns with the others the better," Meriam snipped and continued about her biscuit. "He'll see the whole whimsy quickly put aside."

"Did you never love, Meriam?" I questioned her and placed the parchment on the shelf.

"Love a mouse?" she pondered momentarily. "No, Mother Abbess. I knew from my youngest days that I wanted to be dedicated to peace."

"Ah, yes. Some of us do have that strong calling, but that is not to assume we have never loved."

"I am not sure what you mean."

I shuffled over to the chairs in front of my fire and watched the flames lick away at a birch log. _Love…_

"Love takes on many forms," I spoke to the flittering orange and yellow swirls. "It can cause you to be content with another beast to care for you, protect you, be there for you through all time; or it can inspire you to care for others, protect others, be there for those in need. Sometimes, strong paws are not only there for hold us when we are scared, but to give us the strength to walk ahead and realize courage within ourselves…"

* * *

"_In the stones of that spring valley,  
In the sands and in the green.  
The trees grew strong in alleys,  
And grasses tall and keen.  
And the river flowed and bubbled,  
As it saw its waters home.  
Down to the abbey hedged  
And banked with loam…"_

_I sang merrily and skipped along the spring-fed river trickling down to the tawny stone abbey. To either side of the waters, green foliage and shrubs were shadowed by large palm trees and sapling pines mingling with arbour trees bedecked with flaming red flowers. My grey dress skirts billowed in the desert breeze and the hot morning sun was peaking up from the distant sand dunes beyond the oasis. _

_I knelt beside the river and cupped my paws to drink the cool waters, blotting droplets from my whiskers with my apron, when there was a frantic rustle in the bushes before me. My heart raced and I went rigid with apprehension. I rose slowly to my footpaws and began backing away towards the abbey as two young mice stumbled and tripped into my view. They were both gasping for breath and bloodied; one collapsed on his knees and elbows, pressing his head into his shaking paws and sobbing between gasps of air. The other dropped a knee beside him, laying a paw on his companion's back._

_ "__Come on," he rasped out. "We have to get help. Lu-"_

_ "__I can help," I spoke up and his eyes flashed up to mine. My lungs contracted under his gaze and I blinked twice just to make sure I wasn't envisioning an illusion, but they were real, and if their bodies were, then the pain and harshness in his eyes were real as well. I took a step towards the water's edge and outstretched my paw to them, to him. "I-I can help… I can get more help."_

_His eyes fluttered in relief and sorrow filled his face. "You can… help us?"_

_ "__Yes," I assured him, smiling as he sniffed and wiped his tattered sleeve across his nose. "My name is Germaine. What's yours?"_

_ "__My name is..."_

"Rouse yourselves, Redwallers, they're back! Turnout the cooks! Open the gates! They've come back home!" Bella's voice trumpeted me out of my dreams and I opened my eyes to the dawn. My old ears listened to the sound of calls and shouts from beasts all about the abbey and the familiar creak of the gates being heaved open. I grinned at the ceiling above me. It was about time they returned back to Redwall.

With a sigh I coaxed my aging limbs to cooperate with my mind as I dressed with all the speed I could muster. I hesitated for only a moment in front of the looking glass to adjust my wimple over my ears and grabbing my blackthorn walking stick from its place by the apartment door, I exited my chamber into the morning mists.

Before my old eyes, a ship sailed on the lowered clouds before me; its sails scooping the fog like a Long Patrol hare at my roasted chestnut and cream bake. I could scarcely believe my eyes!

"Heave ho, mates!" Gonff yelled down and popped his head over the railing. I chortled at the sight of the jolly thief. It was grand to see his cheery face again.

"Good morning, Mother Abbess," Brother Montrel greeted me as he and the Brothers and Sisters of Redwall joined me on the steps of my abode. I nodded to them and leaned on my cane.

"A great morning, Brother. Our friends have returned to us." I gestured with my free paw at the revelry before us as family and friends reunited.

"It seems Martin has brought more than a few visitors back with him," Sister Meriam observed beside me from our vantage point. "Some of them are carrying weapons. He is forever filling our abbey with fightbeasts."

"And why would that matter?" I asked. "Any creature is welcome to Redwall Abbey as long as they come in peace."

"We are trying to create a peaceful order here, Mother Abbess," Montrel said quietly, but pronounced enough I could hear him clearly. "Re-establish what we had at Loamhedge." Behind me a few murmured voices echoed their agreement.

I continued to watch the returning Redwallers as they descended the strange contraption and… _he _appeared at the railing opening. Breath caught in my throat, my eyes grew wide; I felt cold and hot all at the same time and free paw rose to my lips. Was it really… _him?_

I never thought I would ever see him again. Countless seasons ago I said goodbye to that rough looking mouse in tattered clothes and waved him off to the north with his travelling companions. I was only fourteen seasons old then and he just a lad of… something more than me. We were young and oh, so different. He was a fighter, born of grit and will, and I, I was a young maiden with blue lotuses secretly braided in my headfur under my short veil and sand on my apron from digging in the abbey's loam gardens. I was a junior novice, training to be a healer and he sharpened the blades_._

But it had to be him. I would know him anywhere although he was now thin and his clothes hung off his form. I could only image what he had looked like in his prime, before war and reality had worked away at his features. But then there he was; bowed and bent with age and travel, his brow now wrinkled and lined- but it was _him._ Standing on the bow of that ridiculous ship on wooden wheels, it was really truly _him._

A part of me wanted to trot over to the haul and wave him down- call his name and smile childishly; but the other nine-tenths of logic denied me such whimsical fancies. I was a not some carefree maid welcoming home a lover; I was an abbess receiving a mouse that had been a friend for less than five days in a time long ago. Five days and forever locked in my heart. Locked in my heart with all their secrets.

He followed Martin down the riggings with the ease of a practiced sailor and I smiled. So he did get to voyage the sea like he dreamed, they must have… my thoughts immediately halted as I noticed a figure missing beside him; one that was always beside him. Quickly, my glance shifted to Martin, to his smiling face and easy banter as he greeted the welcomers with pawshakes and nods of acknowledgement; to the slight slump to his shoulders, the new furrows in his brow and the hard look still to his eyes, and I knew. He did not found his father alive and once again our warrior would have been reminded that he was alone in this world.

"We should be collecting peaceful creatures to our cause," Montrel continued and freed me from reminiscing. "Not waste our time converting warring spirits to something they never practiced."

"Perhaps they want peace as well," Sister Kaythin suggested and Sisters Mena and Cecily nodded in agreement. "It is possible, Brother Montrel."

"For today," he scoffed and waved his paw at the troublesome idea. "Give them time and they will revert to their old ways of warmongering and killing."

"Brother Montrel, if you had a beast suffering from a fever, would you seek the help of a healer who had observed fevers, or one that had _lived_ through them, cured them and mended creatures back to health?" I said with a bite in my tone.

He didn't even hesitate when he snorted out his reply, "The experienced healer of course."

"And would this experienced healer not know best the causes of a fever? The precautions to take against it and also appreciate the idea of wellbeing?"

"Yes, Mother Abbess."

I smiled and watched as my bygone friend hung back with another mouse and hare while the returning Redwallers continued their reception of family and friends. "Then would a fighter not be the best creature to become peaceful? Would they not be the most qualified to define what war is and what amity may come from it? Would they not be the beasts to value peace and strive to keep it?"

"Under your definition they would," Meriam attested. "However, not everybeast follows such definitions."

I sighed and shrugged my curled shoulders. "Then I suppose it is a good thing we have warriors such as Martin and his friends to show out any fighters who do not care for our idea of peace."

"Well, yes but-" she started and held her mouth agape for a brief moment as reason settled in her mind. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Meriam fold her paws in front of her and bow her head in acknowledgement. "Yes, Mother Abbess," she said.

"Enough on this matter, my children," I said, my voice sounding coarse and raspier than I remember it being. "Let us welcome our friends home."

I stepped down the stairs and frowned at the sound reflected off the stone. _Pat, tap. Pat, tap. Pat, tap. Pat, tap._

My cane. A very symbol of my age. And this habit- hardly the floating dresses I used to wear. And my shawl? When had I started wearing a shawl anyways? My spectacles, my wimble… all of it screamed old. Old. Old. Old. Old! Whenever did I allow myself to get old?

"Sister Meriam, will you please take my shawl?" I directed the mousemaid sister and tried to stretch up straighter. "And these specs as well- I'm not reading anymore today."

"Yes, Mother Abbess," she said dutifully and took my effects. "Where should I put them?"

"Anywhere as long as they are out of sight," I replied and focused my strength on walking with as little need for my prop as possible. "Come my brothers and sisters- we must greet our company."

I shuffled my way across the green to the front of the vessel where Martin stood before the crew. He grinned at me and drew his sword, kneeling down while he laid the magnificent blade at my footpaws.

"Martin of Redwall, you have returned to us, my friend."

He responded to me in kind, but my attention was not wholly on our greeting. There was a short silence when he finished his words and I was too preoccupied to reply anything immediately. The warrior tilted his head slightly in reminder and gently cleared his throat. I started slightly at the cue, looking about for something to blame my lack of attention on. Luckily, I happened to have a ship on wheels and a bird of prey gracing my abbey's confines.

"An eventful summer indeed, Martin. What is all this?"

I should have known he wouldn't have just explained the skiff and goshawk; polite to a fault, Martin began introducing the unknown creatures of his entourage.

"… These shrews are Guosim, and we have with us two tribes of otters…"

I stood frozen on the spot as he worked his way down the line, each creature coming forward and giving me a courteous bow. The warriormouse was three beasts away when _he_ stopped his discussion with the aging hare and motioned for his two companions forward for introductions. He chuckled at something the plump mouse said and turned his head towards me. Our eyes locked and his mouth gaped, blinking and furrowing his brow in remembrance. I could tell he was trying to tie together the logic of it all, and I wanted to laugh aloud at his expression. _Oh, my friend- there is no logic in this!_

Yet as much as I desired to rejoice, Martin was working through the beasts quickly and I was becoming flustered at our upcoming introduction. I was terrified that once the warrior got to him, my countenance would betray me, and so I interrupted the presentations.

"Enough. You will confuse my old mind if you carry on further, Martin." I blurted out the rest of my address. "Welcome, welcome to you all, peace be with you, may you find happiness and joy within Redwall Abbey. If there is anything you need from me or my Redwallers, please do not hesitate to ask for it."

I was never short when greeting newcomers and in the silence that followed I judged beasts recognized my peculiar manner. I went to turn away, to retreat back to my apartments, but the hare stepped forward and inquired about food. Typical hare, and I, I could not ignore him or that rumbling stomach of his as I took his paw and led him towards our kitchens.

But _his_ eyes followed me as I walked away and wished I could hear things more clearly. What if he was calling my name I couldn't hear him? What if he was speaking to me and I kept walking away? Would he take it as an insult? Think I wasn't who I really was? Would he think that I didn't care? After all he did for me, how could he think I wouldn't care! I had to find some way to face him. I had to.

Once creatures were settled in Cavern Hole and refreshments begun littering the tables, I excused myself from my seat.

"Are you alright, Germaine?" Bella questioned me. "You are not acting yourself this morning."

"My routine has been thrown off, I suppose," I deduced and tapped my walking stick on the flagstones. "I will just take a turn about the cloister and return revitalized from the fresh air."

"Do you need a paw to walk with, Abbess Germaine?" Martin asked me, rising slightly from his chair. "I will walk with you if-"

"Oh, no, warrior," I smirked. "Sit and relax. You are no doubt wearied from your journey."

"Yes, but-"

"It is alright, Martin," I affirmed. "I am not so old yet that I require aid for a short stroll."

He grinned and sat back down. "As you wish."

After a curt nod, I willed my footpaws to start their motion and slowly I started my way out towards the open enclosure. So many thoughts, so many memories, so many secrets to keep. I had ignored them for so long and now... now how was I to pretend he wasn't... when I knew… So many broken lines drew together, so many hypotheses concluded. My mind swam with notions and theories, so much so I didn't see the top step leading down to the lawn.

"Oh!" I exclaimed as I stumbled and surely would have fallen had a paw not grasped my elbow and righted my stance. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him staring at me with those eyes. Those same dark brown eyes that matched his fur. I must have looked affright, but he simply curled his lips into a smile and said,

"Hello, Germaine."

"You're… you're," I muttered out and squinted my eyes to focus him in my ailing sight. "You're here."

"So are you." His expression hardened. "But, Germaine, Loamhedge…"

I shook my head. "Is gone, my friend. An illness I could not cure. Those of us unaffected fled for our lives."

He sighed and ran a paw over his face before looking me up and down. His look softened slightly. "You became an Abbess," he stated. "Just as you dreamed to be."

"Yes," I said proudly. "And you became a fighter?"

"I became what I had to," he said plainly. I waited for him to offer up more, but he was silent on the matter.

"Your companions?" I started. "They-"

"Who- Beau and Denno?"

"-They aren't Luke." His lips pierced. "Vurg, where is your friend? Where is Martin's father?"

"Luke is dead," he breathed. "He died… seasons ago now."

"Vurg, I am sorry."

"It's alright, Germaine. I have grieved for him and I know he is at peace now." He held out his paw and helped me down the steps and onto the inner garden. "You knew. You knew Martin was Luke's son?"

"I was never sure," I replied. "I suspected, I… yes, I suppose I knew. He looks so much like his grandsire, but I never thought you would travel so far north as to land yourselves on the Northlands were Martin claims he is from."

"Well, that is a story all itself I'm afraid," he smirked and motioned me forward into a walk. I smiled. Always he walked a quarter step behind me. Always he was content to let me lead, to be first. "Have you ever told him? Have you told Martin what you know?"

"No," I confessed. "It was never really my story to tell."

"Nor mine," he said and looked about the arcades and covered walkways lining the cloister. "There are so many I know not where to begin, or if they would want me to tell him. I've given him something, something that may reveal the story in time, but I think its best left hidden- for now."

"I will keep my silence," I agreed. "Trust in that."

We continued our walk quietly and I started to regain a new zest for life. I did not feel like an aging mouse now counting her remaining days, but a spry middle-aged maid with the whole world between her paws again. I smiled at him and said, "How was your journey, my old friend?"

"Which one?" he laughed. "There have been many since we last spoke. Should I start at the beginning?"

"No," I sighed and drew closer to him so our shoulders almost touched. "Start at the end. Start with the journey that brought you back to me. Your journey home."

* * *

**:O IKR, Vurg and Germaine... You'll have to read _The Red Prince_ to find out what happened there. ;) I had the comment by a reviewer that my Germaine in _The Sword and His Flowers_ was much more spry than the Germaine Jacques left us with in _The Legend of Luke, _and since TSAHF takes place after TLOL, it didn't make sense. Here's the thing. I didn't envision Germaine as old as she was I suppose and this little segment shows us how she change slightly. Vurg's appearance breathes new life into her so to speak and though she does not become 'young' she draws energy for a longer life. Once certain things happen in TSAHF, Germaine's health starts to decline, as stated in the epilogue of that tale. **

**Alright, so that concludes the collection of side stories, entitled _The Journey Home._ I hope you liked it and have a new appreciation for some of my original characters and spins on some canon Redwall characters. PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW WITH YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS CHAPTER AND THE TALE AS A WHOLE. AND DON'T FORGET TO VOTE FOR YOUR FAVOURITE NARRATOR ON THE POLL IN MY PROFILE!**

**So, as promised: My inspirations for this lot.**

**Ratherwood****:**** He is heavily inspired by the character Aramis from _The Three Musketeers._ His theme song: Taylor Davis' violin cover of Fullmetal Alchemist. It is such a beautiful piece; full of sadness and hope. Just like Rath. :) Hollywood actor I would cast in his role: Luke Evans.**

**Florgin****: Possibly one of the most challenging and fun characters to write, Florgin (and Flintin) I created based on Tolkien's mischievous hobbits, Merry and Pippen, but more so, on his dwarf brothers Fili and Kili. His theme- I didn't really have one... I could just imagine all his exploits very vividly. Hollywood actor: James Franco.**

**Martin: Well, obviously, the canon character. Martin's theme(s): "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from _Phantom of the Opera_, "Never Let You Go" by Hedley, "It's Time" cover by Peter Hollens and Tyler Ward (originally by Imagine Dragons, but those two do a MUCH better version A Cappella). His actor: Henry Cavill (but NOT as Superman- that role is just going to ruin him in my opinion). Henry Cavill from his days in The Tudors as Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.**

**Liswano****: A reader favourite and the my guilty pleasure to write, Lis is moulded after my close friend who is almost impossible to take anywhere. You know the saying, a friend will bail you out of jail, but your best friend is standing beside you? That's him, and that's Lis. His themes are as complex as his character: "Hero" by Heather Dale, "Shake your Tailfeather" by P. Diddy, Nelly and Murphy Lee, "Get It Started" by Pitbull ft. Shakira, "Cruise" by Florida Georgia Line ft. Nelly, and "Wake Me Up" by Avicii. His Hollywood star: Chris Hemsworth.**

**Abbess Germaine****: Inspiration was my own grandmother and the canon character herself. There was so many little things we didn't know about her, yet what we did was this feisty peacelover that had so much hidden clues about who she was... Anyways, her theme song might surprise you all; it's "Breath of Life" by Florence and the Machine. It's such a strong song that reflects her fortitude and courage. Her actress: Ah, I'm torn. Still living, would be hands down Judi Dench, but I would love to see Katherine Hepburn take that role if she was still alive.**

**Well, that is for this tale and I'm a little sad to let it go. I'll miss these characters, but some of them have appearances in my other tales, so I'll have to be content with that. **

**Now... REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! VOTE, VOTE, VOTE!**


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